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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



























THE SECRET 
OF 

HALLAM HOUSE 


A MYSTERY STORY FOR GIRLS 











THE SECRET OF 
HALLAM HOUSE 

A Mystery Story for Girls 


BY 

NINA BROWN BAKER 

it 

ILLUSTRATED BY 

F. J. BUTTERA 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 



C c 












TZ 7 
.13 I'm js 


Copyright, 1931, 

By LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 


All rights reserved 


THE SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 



PRINTED IN U.S.A. 

SEP 18 1931 c. 


©CU 42440 




To the Real 
Bernice, Natalie, 
and Nina — “Nancy 




“Ah, how do you do, girls?” — Page 12. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I 

The Arrival . 

• 

• 

PAGE 

. 11 

II 

Explorations and Discoveries 

24 

III 

The Egyptian Room 



. 33 

IV 

The Gypsies . 



. 43 

V 

The New Friend . 



. 56 

VI 

In the Dead of Night 



. 63 

VII 

The Strange Footprint 


. 72 

VIII 

“ Speak, Bubastis ! ” 



. 79 

IX 

The Yellow Cup . 



. 84 

X 

The Trap 



. 92 

XI 

Will He Come? 



. 109 

XII 

Baretoes . 



. 114 

XIII 

The Letter . 



. 125 

XIV 

Something About the 

Girdle 

. 132 

XV 

Pudge Digs 



. 140 

XVI 

Beside the Brook . 



. 150 

XVII 

What Can It Mean? 



. 162 

XVIII 

Sunday . 



. 170 

XIX 

In the Tree-top . 



. 178 

XX 

Light at Last 



. 187 

XXI 

The Girdle of Isis 



. 196 

XXII 

All’s Well . 



. 206 


7 









I 








ILLUSTRATIONS 

“ Ah, how do you do, girls? ” 

(Page 12) ... Frontispiece 

Page Facing 

“ I will tell you all the future holds ” . 50 

“ Strange things do happen ” . . 134 

“ It is the Golden Girdle of Isis! ” . . 204 


9 





THE 

SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


CHAPTER I 

THE ARRIVAL 

The Chicago train puffed away from the 
little country station, leaving the three Enfields 
standing rather uncertainly on the platform, 
surrounded by the luggage which the porter 
had hastily piled out during the brief stop. 

Any one, seeing them there, would have 
known them for father and daughters. Mr. 
Enfield was tall and thin, with dark eyes in 
which a smile always lingered, even when he 
was most serious. Bernice was very like him; 
dark, with smooth, shining hair, and eyes the 
velvety brown of a pansy. Nancy, the younger 
sister, resembled the other two in features more 
than coloring, for she was very fair, with float¬ 
ing golden curls and eyes of cornflower blue. 

“ Great-Uncle Peter’s lawyer wrote that he 
would meet us,” Mr. Enfield said. “ I wonder 
— oh, here he is now, I think.” 

11 


12 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

A gaunt, bearded man was making his way 
toward them. “ Isn’t he the very picture of 
Abraham Lincoln? ” Nancy whispered to her 
sister. “ Sh! ” Bernice whispered back, “ He’ll 
hear you.” “ But it’s a compliment, really, be¬ 
cause —” “ Honey, do hush! ” “ Oh, well, if 
you’re going to get elder-sisterish! ” Nancy 
subsided, and waited demurely while the gentle¬ 
man introduced himself to Daddy. He was Mr. 
Charlton, the lawyer who had written to tell 
them of their inheritance, and he explained 
now that he had a car waiting to drive them to 
Hallam House. 

Mr. Enfield presented his two daughters, and 
the lawyer turned his solemn gaze upon them. 

“ Ah, how do you do, girls? And how old 
are you? ” 

“ Sixteen and fourteen, Mr. Charlton,” Ber¬ 
nice answered politely, while Nancy squeezed 
her hand meaningly. The sisters had a theory 
that grown-ups who didn’t really care for young 
people always began by asking their ages. 
“ My gracious! ” Nancy thought inside. “ If 
they only knew how tired we get of it! Wonder 
how they’d like it if we did it? ‘ And how old 
are you, Mr. Charlton? I hope you are a good 


THE ARRIVAL 


13 


little man ?’ 55 She giggled a little at the pic¬ 
ture, and Bernice pinched her arm warningly. 

Fortunately, Mr. Charlton had turned to 
lead the way to his car. He had picked up one 
of the suitcases; Daddy took the other big one, 
and the girls followed, each with her own 
smaller bag. The trunks would have to wait 
until they could get some one to deliver them. 

“ I expect you’ll find Rosemont pretty slow 
after Chicago, Mr. Enfield,” the lawyer was 
saying. “ We’re just a sleepy little Mid-West- 
ern town, and we don’t make much effort to 
keep up with city ways.” 

“All the better!” Daddy answered cheer¬ 
fully. He swung the suitcase into the back of 
the battered flivver and turned with his foot 
on the step. “ Peace and quiet are exactly what 
we’re looking for. As I told you in my letter, 
I’m planning to write a book this summer. 
Having this house left me by Great-Uncle 
Peter came as a heaven-sent opportunity to do 
the work I’ve been planning for years.” 

“ Um, yes, you did speak of a book.” Mr. 
Charlton motioned the two girls to the back 
seat, and began arranging the luggage in the 
small space left for it. rc I believe you said you 


14 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

were giving up your newspaper work to write 
a — er — yes, a textbook on political science, 
wasn’t it? You think that it will prove prof¬ 
itable? ” 

“ I doubt it,” Daddy answered promptly. 
“ Certainly it will be no best-seller. But it’s a 
subject in which I am deeply interested, and I 
have some worth-while things to say. I’ve been 
gathering my material for years, and this 
blessed legacy has made it possible for me to 
get at the actual writing at last.” 

Mr. Charlton looked doubtful. “ Well, 
authorship is a chancy business, at best. And 
to give up a paying position — my late client’s 
estate amounted to practically nothing, you 
know, aside from the house and his Egyptian 
collection. Too bad he willed the collection to 
the University — it would have brought you 
a tidy sum.” 

“ I thought it was very generous of him to 
leave me the house, considering that he had 
never even seen me.” 

Mr. Charlton looked even more doubtful. 
“ Perhaps, but I should not advise you to 
count too much upon the house, Mr. Enfield. 
Frankly, I have little hope of finding a pur- 



THE ARRIVAL 


15 


chaser for it; it is too big and too old-fashioned. 
I cannot help feeling, Mr. Enfield, that you 
were a little rash in giving up your position with 
the newspaper.” 

“ Oh, well, it’s done now,” Daddy laughed 
cheerily. He had taken his seat in front beside 
Mr. Charlton, and the noise of the starting 
motor almost drowned his words. “ At least 
Uncle’s gift assures us of shelter, and I’ve a lit¬ 
tle money saved. We’ll manage, won’t we, 
girls? ” 

“ Of course. Daddy! ” The sisters spoke to¬ 
gether. They had followed every word of the 
conversation with indignant interest. This 
Mr. Charlton didn’t seem to believe in Daddy’s 
Book! Why, it was going to be the most won¬ 
derful book in the world! Senators would read 
it, and governors, and even presidents. The 
girls knew all about it. Well, not all about the 
book itself, exactly, because it was pretty deep. 
But about how Daddy had been planning, and 
making notes, and just waiting till he could be 
free of the office and write. Even before Little 
Mumsey died — and that was when Nancy was 
only six — they’d heard of the Book. Manage ? 
Of course they would. 


16 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

As they rounded the station and rattled up 
Main Street, impulsive Nancy gave a squeal 
of delight. 

“ Oh, it’s adorable! Look at the big trees 
growing right out of the sidewalk. In Chicago 
they’d have cut them down, instead of going 
around them that way, wouldn’t they, Sis? 
And the quaint little stores — and oh, look, 
there’s a horse and buggy. It really is, just like 
in the movies! ” 

“ And the girl driving is wearing a sunbon- 
net,” Bernice contributed. “ That’s the first 
time I’ve ever seen one, except in a picture. Oh, 
and look at the old dog taking a sun bath in the 
very middle of the street. Don’t you just love 
that? ” 

Quickly they left the business section behind, 
and drove past old-fashioned houses with wide 
verandas, smothered in climbing roses and 
honeysuckle. Great elms arched over the un¬ 
paved street, making a cool green tunnel. 
Above the rattle of the car came the high twit¬ 
tering of birds; white butterflies flashed in sun¬ 
lit spaces. To the city-bred girls, it was a new 
world. 

“ Hallam House is out on the edge of town,” 


THE ARRIVAL 


17 


Mr. Charlton was telling their father. “ Your 
great-uncle built it in the ’80’s for a promised 
bride who jilted him. It is quite a romantic 
story.” 

The word “romantic” caught Nancy’s ear, 
and she leaned forward so that she could hear 
the next words. 

“ The lady was a Miss Lydia Stone,” the 
lawyer went on. “ I was only a lad at the time, 
and scarcely knew her at all, but I remember 
very well how lovely she was. She and Mr. 
Hallam quarreled a week before the appointed 
wedding day, I believe. I don’t know the de¬ 
tails, of course — no one did, although the vil¬ 
lage buzzed with gossip. At any rate, the wed¬ 
ding did not take place, and Mr. Hallam closed 
his great new house and went abroad. When 
he returned more than a year later — from 
Egypt, I understand — he found the beautiful 
Lydia had married another. Shortly after¬ 
ward she went to California to live, and died 
there many years ago.” 

“ I suppose it was on that trip that Great- 
Uncle Peter’s curious passion for Egyptian 
antiques began? ” Mr. Enfield suggested. 

The lawyer nodded. “Up to that time he 


18 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


had been a business man with very little interest 
in such things,” he replied. “ He changed 
greatly in the years that followed. He sold his 
business, and dropped all of his old friends. He 
made several trips to Egypt, returning each 
time with new treasures: mummies, statues, 
pottery; heaven knows what! He welcomed no 
one to the house, in which he lived alone, except 
for the queer foreign servant he had picked up 
on his travels. But perhaps you knew of all 
this? ” 

Mr. Enfield shook his head. “ I knew noth¬ 
ing whatever about him. My grandmother 
was his sister, but she died before I was born. 
He never wrote to my father, nor to me, and 
I was thunderstruck when your letter came, 
saying that he had willed his house to me.” 

“ Well, he was queer,” the lawyer repeated. 
“ He had me trace you at the time he made his 
will. I suggested that he might like to have you 
visit him, as you were his last surviving relative. 
But he answered testily that kinsfolk were a 
bore, and he wanted nothing of them. Fact 
is, I think he didn’t know what to do with the 
house. The University, which accepted his 
Egyptian collection, wouldn’t have had any use 


THE ARRIVAL 


19 

for it. Well, here it is.” He broke off. 
“ What do you think of it?” 

“ My gracious, it’s a mansion!” Nancy 
gasped, in such awe-struck tones that even Mr. 
Charlton smiled a little. 

The car labored up a drive of weed-grown 
gravel, between shaggy shrubs and knee-high 
grass. The old house was of wood; its paint 
so stained and blistered that one could scarcely 
guess it had once been white. Its cupola had 
settled a little to one side; the deep veranda 
sagged, and the shutters drooped forlornly on 
broken hinges. 

A sad old house, Bernice thought, as they 
left the car and waited while Mr. Charlton fitted 
the key to the front door. A house that had 
never really been lived in. It had been new 
once, proud and shining, ready to shelter happy 
human hearts. Now it was old and shabby and 
sad, for never through all the years had love 
come to turn it into a home. “ But maybe it 
isn’t too late! ” she thought, and laid a gentle 
hand on the cracked porch-railing. “ Cheer 
up, old house — we're going to be happy here! ” 

As the door swung open, a chill musty breath 
came from the dim hall. Mr. Charlton led the 


20 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


way at once to a room on the right. It was fur¬ 
nished comfortably enough with deep leather 
chairs, and lined with rows of soberly bound 
books. 

“ Mr. Hallam used this library as his study 
and general living-room,” the lawyer explained. 
“ There are twenty rooms in the house, but he 
occupied only two, this one and the bedroom 
above. He had his meals served here. The 
other rooms, with the exception of the kitchen 
and the attic bedroom where his servant slept, 
are just as the decorators left them. I under¬ 
stand that they are handsomely furnished, al¬ 
though I have never entered one of them until 
yesterday, when I had the bedroom adjoining 
my late client’s put in order for the young 
ladies here. Later, of course, you can choose 
which rooms you wish to use. Now, in the mat¬ 
ter of a housekeeper, I can recommend a very 
competant woman — ” 

“ Oh, no! ” Bernice spoke abruptly, then 
stopped, confused. 

“ Bernice is the housekeeper,” Daddy inter¬ 
posed, smiling. “ The elder sister in a mother¬ 
less household has great responsibilities, Mr. 
Charlton, and Bernice has shouldered hers mag- 



THE ARRIVAL 


21 


nificently. For several years now she has man¬ 
aged our little flat, and kept on the honor roll 
at school as well. Nancy helps, of course, and 
I assure you that they are most efficient house¬ 
keepers.” 

“ Very good, then,” the lawyer answered, and 
Nancy thought, “ I do believe he’s beginning 
to approve of us! ” 

“ If you’ll come this way, Miss Bernice,” he 
continued, “I’ll show you the kitchen. I or¬ 
dered some provisions — enough for to-night 
and for to-morrow’s breakfast. I can send you 
a woman whenever you want her for laundry 
work, and for heavy cleaning. If you follow 
Mr. Hallam’s example and restrict yourselves 
to a few rooms, I see no reason why you should 
not get along very comfortably without other 
outside help.” 

After the lawyer’s departure, the Enfields 
supped informally in the great shadowy old 
kitchen, where Bernice was relieved to find that 
besides an immense coal range there was a small 
modern oil stove. Frizzled bacon and scram¬ 
bled eggs, brown buttered toast, and a big bowl 
of fresh peaches were dispatched with the appe¬ 
tite travel gives. By the time Nancy had dried 


22 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

the last dish, twilight was creeping across the 
lawn. 

Their father, who had gone back to the li¬ 
brary, called to Bernice to see if there were 
candles in the kitchen. “Mr. Charlton said 
he had ordered the electricity turned on, but 
evidently they didn’t get around to it,” he re¬ 
marked. 

After much search she found half a dozen 
stubby tallow candles in a drawer. “ These 
will do to go to bed by, anyway,” she yawned. 
“ And if you two are as tired as I am, that’s all 
you’ll need.” 

“ It’s been a long day,” Daddy agreed. “ I 
guess bed is the best place for us.” He lighted 
a candle for each, and led the way upstairs. 

The candlelight made fantastic shadows on 
the dark staircase, and the girls were glad to 
keep very close behind the tall figure of their 
father. When they reached the second floor 
landing, they were perplexed by three corridors 
branching in different directions. They chose 
the right-hand one, and after passing two 
locked doors came to that of the room directly 
over the library. This door opened at a touch, 
revealing a big chamber, furnished in heavily 


THE ARRIVAL 


23 


carved mahogany. The windows were open, 
and the bed was freshly made. “ This was 
Great-Uncle Peter’s room, of course,” Bernice 
observed. “ And it shall be yours, Daddy, for 
to-night, anyhow. Let’s see if the one next 
door is open.” 

It was. The room was smaller, but it con¬ 
tained a deep cushioned window-seat that en¬ 
chanted Nancy. The girls were too tired and 
sleepy, however, to give much thought to their 
surroundings. They had brought up their 
smaller bags, and were quickly in their pajamas, 
cuddled between yellowed linen sheets. “To¬ 
morrow we’ll explore,” they promised each 
other happily, and were asleep almost before 
the words were uttered. 


CHAPTER II 


EXPLORATIONS AND DISCOVERIES 

Breakfast was scarcely over when Nancy was 
on her feet, flourishing the big bunch of keys 
Mr. Charlton had left on the library table. 

“ Do come, Daddy,” she urged. “ I can’t 
wait another minute to look into all those locked 
rooms. It’s the most mysterious, fascinating 
— oh, Sis, don't say we must do the dishes first! 
If I have to wait any longer, I’ll just explode.” 

Bernice glanced questioningly at Daddy, 
who pushed back his chair. “ The dishes will 
keep, for once. Don’t ever throw it up to me 
that I encouraged such practices, though. Shall 
we begin with the nearest door? ” 

Bernice shook her head. “ I’ve alreadv ex- 

* 

plored the doors in the kitchen here,” she 
answered. “ Besides the one from the passage 
where we came in, there’s the back door to the 
porch, a pantry, and a little room which must 
have been planned for the servants’ dining¬ 
room. I looked into it before breakfast. It’s 


24 


EXPLORATIONS 


25 


bright and sunny, with plain white table and 
chairs. I thought it would make a nice dining¬ 
room for us, because the real one is so big and 
so far away.” 

“ All right, then, we’ll leave that to you,” 
Daddy replied. “ Let’s try these doors in the 
passage.” 

The keys all bore cardboard labels, lettered 
in faded violet ink. Hastily they ran over them. 
“ Front Parlor,” “ Library,” “ Back Parlor,” 
“ Dining-Room,” “ Smoking-Room.” 

One after the other they threw open the doors 
of the ground-floor rooms. When the tour was 
completed, they turned into the library and 
sank wearily into the leather chairs. At the 
deep dismay on both girls’ faces Daddy sud¬ 
denly laughed outright. 

“ Pretty terrible, isn’t it ? Yet I give you my 
word that all that jigsaw golden oak and crinkly 
red plush was the last word in interior decorat¬ 
ing when Uncle furnished his house. About 
the late Rutherford B. Hayes period, I should 
call it.” 

“But Daddy, it’s frightful!” Bernice, 
keenly sensitive to beauty, could scarcely be¬ 
lieve what she had seen. “ The carpets, with 


26 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


glaring red and purple roses bigger than cab¬ 
bages — and the chocolate-colored wall-paper 
— and the hand-painted china cuspidors! 
Didn’t Great-Uncle Peter have any taste 
at all? ” 

“ Well, as a matter of fact, I don’t believe 
he did have a great deal. I should say that he 
turned the place over to the local furniture 
dealer, with instructions to give him the very 
best and spare no expense. He was a self-made 
man, you know, and might have been afraid to 
trust his own judgment, especially as Mr. 
Charlton tells us he was preparing the house 
for his promised bride.” 

“ I’d like to know more about that bride,” 
Nancy put in. “I think she got a glimpse of 
the front parlor, and just ran” 

“And who could blame her?” Daddy 
laughed. “ I’m a little disappointed about this 
furniture business,” he went on more seriously. 
“ I had hoped that we might realize some ready 
cash by selling most of it. It cost a lot, one can 
see that, but I doubt if any dealer would take 
it off our hands.” 

“I should think not!” Bernice agreed. 
“ You couldn’t call it antique, and nobody could 


EXPLORATIONS 


27 


possibly want it for itself. I’m disappointed, 
too, Daddy. We do need money, don’t we? ” 

There was a hint of anxiety in her voice, and 
Daddy was quick to reassure her. “ Oh, we’ll 
get along all right. The savings account will 
see us through the summer if we’re careful, and 
then if the book doesn’t provide bread and but¬ 
ter I can always go back to the paper. You 
musn’t worry, dear.” 

“ I won’t, then.” Bernice smiled back, and 
got briskly to her feet. “ Let’s go on survey¬ 
ing our kingdom. Upstairs next.” 

The bedrooms were not quite so bad, and they 
were cheered by the discovery of a quaint round 
room in the base of the cupola which would be 
just the thing for Daddy’s study. There was 
a small solid mahogany table the right height 
for typewriting, with some empty sectional 
bookcases and two willow rocking-chairs, uphol¬ 
stered in faded chintz. “ We’ll bring up a 
straight chair from the dining-room,” the 
young housekeeper announced. “ The book¬ 
cases will hold your books and papers, and all 
those windows will give you plenty of light. 
You’ll be far enough from the rest of the house 
here so that you can’t hear a sound, and there 


28 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

won’t be a thing in the world to disturb you. 
Just wait till I get it all fixed up, Daddy — 
you’ll love it.” 

“ I’m sure of that,” he agreed. “ Well, let’s 
see. We’ve come to the last key. ‘ Egyptian 
Room,’ it’s marked. That must be where Uncle 
kept his treasures.” 

The key was larger and heavier than the 
others on the ring, and Nancy shivered a little 
as her father held it up. 

“ I feel exactly like Mrs. Bluebeard,” she 
confided. “ I want to go in, and I don’t want 
to go in. Will there be mummies, Dads ? Real 
live ones? ” 

“ And what a bright question that is! ” ex¬ 
claimed Bernice witheringly. “ If there’s any¬ 
thing deader in this world than a real mummy 
I can’t think what it could be.” 

“ Oh, well, you know what I mean. And you 
needn’t be so superior; you know perfectly well 
the thought of that room sends cold chills down 
your back, too. When we used to go to the 
Field Museum, you’d hurry me through the 
mummy room every time. And those were 
public mummies — our own private personal 
ones would be a thousand times more fearsome. 


EXPLORATIONS 29 

Right in the house, almost next door to where 
you sleep! Why, if their ghosts took a notion 
to walk, they’d be simply bound to walk in on 
us. Maybe we ought not to disturb them. 
Maybe if we don’t go in there and get them all 
stirred up, they won’t know we’re here, and then 
they won’t come stretching withered hands at 
us in the dead of night, and —” 

“Nancy, darling, you mustn’t—” Daddy 
began, but Bernice laughed. 

“ Don’t mind her, Daddy, she’s doing it on 
purpose. Nancy isn’t afraid of ghosts — she 
knows perfectly well there aren’t any such 
things. It’s just that she loves to get what she 
calls a thrill by letting her imagination run away 
with her. Why, if a mummy’s ghost did come 
to her at dead of night she’d have a wonderful 
time plying him with questions, and she’d prob¬ 
ably end up by enticing him to go down in the 
kitchen and make fudge with her. I know her! ” 
“ My gracious, you do take the joy out of 
life!” Nancy exclaimed aggrievedly. “I 
haven’t made fudge in the middle of the night 
for ages, and I don’t see why you can’t let me 
work up some nice goose-fleshy thrills over 
Uncle Peter’s mummies.” 



30 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

“ Well, as I’m trying to explain,” Daddy 
broke in, “ Uncle Peter’s mummies are now re¬ 
posing in the University Museum. Shortly 
after his death, over three months ago, Mr. 
Charlton had the collection packed and shipped 
to the University, as Uncle had directed in his 
will.” 

Nancy’s face fell. “ Then there’s nothing in 
the Bluebeard chamber, after all? ” 

“ Hardly anything. Mr. Charlton tells me 
that Dr. Fellowes, of the University, visited 
Great-Uncle Peter at his request, when the 
will was drawn, and went over the collection 
with him. Dr. Fellowes selected the objects 
the University wished to possess — which of 
course included everything of value. Some of 
Uncle’s purchases, however, were not old 
enough or rare enough to be worth exhibiting, 
and those were left in the Egyptian Room. 
Uncle was not a scientist, you know, and bought 
to please himself.” 

“ Oh, I didn’t know he bought them! ” Nancy 
exclaimed. “ I thought he went and dug in 
the old tombs, and found royal mummies and 
precious jewels for himself.” 

“ Nothing so romantic,” Daddy laughed. 


EXPLORATIONS 


31 


“ You can’t just go to Egypt and dig, you 
know. Only recognized archaeologists are 
granted that privilege, and even they are closely 
restricted by the Egyptian government. Very 
few treasures are allowed to leave the country 
nowadays, and they must be bought and paid 
for.” 

“ And Great-Uncle Peter wasn’t even a — 
an arch — whatever it is? ” 

“ No, he was just an amateur, passionately 
interested in Egyptian things, but by no means 
an authority on them. You spoke of jewels 
just now. It is a curious thing, Mr. Charlton 
was telling me, that the collection contained no 
jewels or ornaments of any kind. It seems that 
Great-Uncle Peter had a violent dislike for 
them. He did buy mummies, however — I be¬ 
lieve there were four included in the bequest 
to the University. Then there were a number 
of sarcophaghi, or coffins, a fine array of burial 
urns, some small statues, and a quantity of 
household pottery. That was about the extent 
of the collection. Shall we go now and see 
what is left of it? ” 

Before the girls could reply there came a 
terrific peal at the front door bell. “ That must 


32 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


be the electric-light man,” Bernice exclaimed, 
jumping up. “ Our trunks have to be ordered 
up from the station, too, and I shall have to do 
some marketing before I can get another meal. 
Don’t you think —” 

“ Of course, the Egyptian Room can wait,” 
Mr. Enfield agreed. “ Like the dishes — we 
had quite forgotten them! I want to get my 
books unpacked as soon as the trunks come, 
too. Come along, chicken. We’ll continue our 
hunt for thrills to-morrow.” 

“ All right,” Nancy answered. “ If you’re 
sure there aren’t any mummies I can wait. 
Anyway,” she added hopefully, “ maybe their 
ghosts stayed behind. If I feel a shriveled hand 
plucking at my coverlet to-night I shall know! ” 


CHAPTER III 


THE EGYPTIAN ROOM 

It was not until late the following afternoon 
that the Enfields were ready to attack the last 
locked door. The girls had been busy all the 
morning getting their household in running 
order. They had decided to keep the bedrooms 
Mr. Charlton had chosen for them, and to use 
in addition the library as a living-room, the 
cupola room for Daddy’s study, the small din¬ 
ing-room, and the kitchen. 

“ That really makes a six-room apartment, 
and we can handle it easily,” Bernice declared. 
“ The other rooms we’ll just keep locked and 
not bother with.” 

Daddy’s books were unpacked, and ranged 
on the shelves of the small bookcase. His type¬ 
writer occupied the table, drawn near the win¬ 
dows, with a great pile of fresh white manu¬ 
script paper beside it. Working hours, he had 
announced, would be from nine to four, daily 
except Sundays. “ And woe betide the intruder 

33 


34 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

who dares knock at my door during those 
hours! ” he warned, putting on a heavy scowl. 

“ As if we’d think of disturbing you! ” Nancy 
finished sharpening the last of a dozen pencils 
and laid it carefully on the clean blotting- 
paper. “ There! And now, Dads, we’re going 
to open the Bluebeard Chamber. Once you 
get buried in the Book, there’ll be no dragging 
you out of this room. And I do think that, for 
a first visit, a strong man’s presence is most im¬ 
portant. Just in case, you know.” 

Mr. Enfield looked at his watch and jumped 
up. “ Well, I couldn’t really make a start this 
afternoon, I suppose, though the temptation 
is almost overpowering. Come along, then, 
and we’ll get it over.” 

44 Wait till I get Sis.” Nancy went to the 
head of the stairs and called Bernice, who had 
just returned from a marketing trip and was 
arranging her purchases on the pantry shelves. 
She had been delighted to find that the cost of 
foodstuffs was far lower in this little country 
place than she had found it in Chicago, and the 
friendly interest of the storekeepers had made 
her feel that she was already at home in Rose- 
mont. 


THE EGYPTIAN ROOM 35 

She came running at Nancy’s call, and the 
three of them followed the main upstairs cor¬ 
ridor to the back of the house, where it ended 
at the door of the Egyptian Room. The room 
was very large, running the full width of the 
house. The windows, as the girls had seen from 
the back yard, were heavily barred with iron. 
Great-Uncle Peter had taken no chances with 
his treasures. 

There was only one door, an unusually heavy 
one of stout oak, reinforced with copper bands. 
The old lock was stiff, and Mr. Enfield strug¬ 
gled for several minutes before it finally yielded. 
At last, with a tug, he threw the great door open. 
Nancy clutched her sister excitedly. 

Inside, it was almost dark, and Mr. Enfield 
crossed to open the old-fashioned Venetian 
blinds which shaded long windows. As he thus 
admitted the slanting rays of the afternoon sun, 
a cloud of dust arose and set the two girls 
coughing. They advanced a little fearfully, 
clinging to each other. A curious odor hung in 
the close air; a hint of cloves and tar, and of 
some queer spice they could not name. 

“ Well, here we are,” Daddy called from 
across the room, and his hearty voice sounded 


36 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


comfortingly loud and human. Laughing a 
little, Nancy ran to his side. 

Bernice, her eyes blinded by the sudden light, 
followed more slowly. “ You’re frightened,” 
her sister accused her, from the safe shelter of 
her father’s shoulder. 

“ No, I’m not — at least, I don’t think it’s 
that,” Bernice answered honestly. “ I did feel 
queer, there in the doorway. That funny smell, 
and the strange shadows — for a minute I had 
the oddest feeling that we were entering a tomb. 
But that’s silly! ” She gave herself a little 
shake, and turned to look about her. 

The center of the room was bare, except for 
small glass cases such as one sees in a museum. 
These stood on bases of dark wood, bringing 
them about waist-high. There were six such 
cases standing in pairs the length of the room. 
The walls were lined with larger cases, glass to 
the floor, and taller than a tall man. There were 
no chairs, nor was there furniture of any de¬ 
scription. The dusty floor was uncarpeted, 
and the walls were papered in dull red. 

Nancy, her fears forgotten, had already 
darted to the nearest case. It was lined with 
yellowed white satin, still bearing the marks 


THE EGYPTIAN ROOM 37 

of vases or jars which had been removed. It 
was quite empty. 

“ Here’s something, Puss!” Bernice called 
from a tall case between two windows. “ Come 
and look — I think it’s Ali Baba’s own jar.” 

It was indeed as big as the great jars in 
which the Forty Thieves met their doom; a 
hideous thing in dull red pottery, with rude 
black figures and signs painted on every inch 
of the surface. “ These are hieroglyphics, 
aren’t they, Daddy? ” Bernice asked, rather 
proud of her knowledge. 

Mr. Enfield nodded. “ I know that much, 
but you musn’t expect me to translate them. 
Egyptology was no part of my education, I’m 
sorry to say. I wonder if the jar is real, or only 
an imitation? Probably the latter, since the 
University rejected it.” 

“ Well, I don’t think much of that” Nancy 
put in disgustedly. “ Oh, here are some pottery 
toys — most of them are broken, though. Come 
over here and tell me about them.” 

“ Listen, young woman,” her father answered 
severely, as he strolled toward the case she 
pointed out. “ My specialty is modern politics, 
not Egyptian lore. And well you know it. 


38 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

This attempt to expose my ignorance — Hello, 
here’s Ra, the sun-god, with the head of a hawk, 
and Hathor, the cow-goddess. Your ‘toys’ are 
small images of the Egyptian gods, Nancy. 
Now please don’t embarrass me with further 
questions! ” 

“ I knew you’d know,” Nancy answered 
serenely. “ Now go on and tell me all about 
them. Why would a goddess, who could surely 
look like anything she wanted to, choose to look 
like a cow? ” 

While Mr. Enfield struggled to recall such 
scraps of Egyptian mythology as he had read, 
Bernice wandered to the farther end of the 
room. Here a great stone coffin-lid, too tall 
for the glass cases, stood alone against the wall. 
It was carved all over with the curious signs 
which she knew had been the sacred writing of 
the Egyptian priests. She passed her fingers 
idly over the rough surface, trying to imagine 
the long-dead workman who had wrought with 
such pains. What was his name? What were 
his thoughts? Perhaps his daughter, an Egyp¬ 
tian girl of Bernice’s own age, had played about 
the workshop; had pressed her slim brown 
fingers where Bernice’s rested now. 


THE EGYPTIAN ROOM 39 

With a little sigh, for there was something 
saddening in the thought, Bernice rejoined her 
father and sister. They had left the case of 
statuettes, and were examining a stone animal 
at the far end of the room. Like the coffin-lid, 
it did not occupy a glass case, but stood, or 
rather sat, on a block of stone mounted on a low 
wooden platform. The platform made a con¬ 
venient seat, and Nancy had dropped down at 
the feet of the image. 

“ It’s certainly a cat,” she was remarking. 
“ But they must have grown bigger in Egypt 
than they do here! ” 

The figure was indeed about the size of a 
full-grown leopard. It was carved in the posi¬ 
tion a cat so often takes; sitting up with fore¬ 
paws straight; ears erect and head cocked a 
little to one side. The great paws rested on 
what looked like a thick roll of paper, carved 
in stone. 

“ This is what I call a really splendid piece 
of work,” Mr. Enfield remarked as Bernice 
j oined them. “ Look at the line of the back, and 
the muscles of the shoulders! And the papyrus 
scroll he guards — see, it even reproduces the 
wax seal! I wonder if this fellow wasn’t placed 


40 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


before a strong-room, a place where precious 
documents were kept? It would be a warning 
to thieves that the king’s treasures were well- 
guarded.” 

“ I think he’s a perfectly adorable kitty,” 
Nancy announced. “ He’s the only thing I’ve 
seen here that any one could possibly want. 
Why do you suppose the University turned 
him down? I should think they’d just love to 
have him.” 

“ I don’t know,” Mr. Enfield answered. 
■“ He may be only a copy, of course, but he 
looks like a genuine antique to me. I believe 
that carven cats were extremely plentiful 
among the Egyptian ruins, however, and per¬ 
haps the University already had all the speci¬ 
mens they cared for. What have you found, 
Bernice? ” 

She led them to the sarcophagus lid, and after 
that the three wandered about, examining the 
scattered contents of the cases. Many were 
entirely empty; the others contained only bits 
of pottery and broken pieces of inscribed stone. 
Nancy was thrilled to find in one of the wall 
cases a faded card reading, “ The mummy of a 
lady called Hatseph, who lived about 1000 


THE EGYPTIAN ROOM 41 

B. C.” But Hatseph had left nothing behind 
her except the faint queer spicy smell. 

The light was fading, and Bernice’s mind 
was turning to the preparation of dinner. “ I’ll 
help you close the shutters. Daddy,” she offered. 
“ There’s nothing else to see here.” 

Nancy had wandered back to the stone cat. 
“ I shall call him Bubastis,” she said. “ I read 
a story once about a sacred cat called that — he 
was Egyptian, too. Are you sure he’s ours, 
Dads? The University can’t come back and 
take him away? ” 

“ No, indeed,” Daddy reassured her. “ They 
had their choice, and the objects they rejected 
become part of the contents of the house, which 
was left to me. The University has no claim 
on anything in this room now; Mr. Charlton 
made that very plain.” 

“ Well, I’m glad they left Bubastis,” Nancy 
answered. “ Isn’t he quaint, Dad ? I can’t help 
feeling that if I just rubbed his poor battered 
head a bit, he’d arch his back and purr. Should 
you mind if I claim him for my very own? ” 

“ Not a bit; take him and welcome! ” Mr. 
Enfield answered. “Why, what is it, Ber¬ 
nice? ” 



42 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

The older girl, who had been busily closing 
shutters, suddenly started back, clutching at 
her father’s arm. 

“That face, Daddy!” she whispered. 
“ Looking in at me from the big elm out there! 
Oh, it was horrible — black, and fierce — 
Daddy, what is it? ” 

“ Why, daughter! ” Mr. Enfield was utterly 
taken aback. Nancy’s imaginative thrills were 
one thing; to have his sensible elder daughter 
give way to fancies was another matter. Gently 
he pulled away from her clutching hands and 
hurried to the window. The branches of the 
great elm crowded close to the glass; the wind 
was rising, and he looked out into a sea of toss¬ 
ing green leaves. There was no face, nor any 
sign of a human being. 

Mr. Enfield passed an arm around the waist 
of each daughter and turned them firmly toward 
the door. “ This family has too much imagina¬ 
tion for its own good,” he laughed. “ Nancy 
started it, you caught it, Bernice. Let’s get out 
of this gloomy place before I begin seeing 
things, too! ” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE GYPSIES 

“ I’m going to explore the back yard,” Nancy 
announced next morning. Breakfast was over, 
beds were made and dishes washed. Mr. En¬ 
field had retired to his study, and the two girls 
were alone in the kitchen. “ It’s just a tangle 
of grass and weeds, I know, but down at the 
far end I caught a glimpse of cosmos flowers 
from the bedroom window. I’m sure there are 
enough for a table bouquet, anyway, and there 
may be other flowers if I can get through the 
jungle. Coming along, Sis? ” 

“ I don’t think so,” Bernice answered ab¬ 
sently. “ I want to go through the china closets 
this morning — I know I can find something 
prettier than this horrid thick stoneware we’re 
using now. You run along, dear. There’s 
nothing I need you for, and the sunshine will 
do you good.” 

Nancy waited for no urging, and soon she 
was breaking a path through the tangled weeds 

43 



44 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

which grew high behind the house. There had 
been a flower garden here once, but years of 
neglect had left little to show f or it. She pushed 
on, however, and came at last to the low stone 
wall which marked the end of their property. 
The cosmos grew against this wall, and though 
it was early for them, quite a number were in 
flower. Nancy drank in their clean pink and 
lavender beauty in delight. The brittle stems 
snapped easily, and in a few minutes she had 
a lovely bouquet. 

Deciding at last that she had enough, she 
tied them carefully with a wisp of grass and 
sat down on the wall for a breathing spell. The 
girls had been so busy inside the house since 
their arrival that there had been little time to 
notice their outdoor surroundings. 

Hallam House had been built on the out¬ 
skirts of the little town, surrounded by grass- 
grown prairie. From where Nancy sat, only 
one other house could be seen; a pink stucco 
bungalow which stood about the width of a city 
block to the left of Hallam House. It looked 
spick and span, and very charming, with its 
beautifully kept lawn and trim hedge. 

As Nancy idly watched, a girl somewhat 


THE GYPSIES 


45 


taller than Bernice came out of the kitchen door, 
carrying a basket of newly-washed clothes. She 
wore a sleeveless pink smock, the exact color of 
the house, and her straight black hair was 
smartly bobbed in a fashion Nancy thought 
very becoming. She pushed back her own clus¬ 
tering golden curls and for the hundredth time 
wished that Sister and Daddy would let her 
have them cut. Of course, curls were nice, but 
nobody who didn’t have them could possibly 
imagine the trouble they were! Bernice wore 
her soft brown hair short, and it had just the 
hint of a wave which made a fascinating frame 
for her face. She would never listen to Nancy’s 
pleas for short hair, though. “ When you have 
fairy-princess golden curls, you simply have to 
live up to them! ” was the way she always settled 
the matter. 

The Bungalow Girl was hanging her clothes 
on the line now, and whistling; a clear, merry 
little tune which made Nancy pucker her own 
lips in imitation. It was so babyish not to be 
able to whistle tunes! Nancy tried hard, but 
only a funny, toneless note would come, not in 
the least like the other girl’s easy melody. 

Nancy wondered what this neighbor girl’s 


46 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

name was, and if she were as nice as she looked. 
Nancy had heard that in small towns every one 
knew everybody; that you didn’t have to wait 
to be introduced, but just made friends with 
the people who lived near you. That did seem 
queer! So different from the city, where you 
might live in an apartment building for years 
and know no more of your neighbors than their 
names on the mail box. She wondered if it 
could be true, what she had heard of small-town 
customs. She hoped it was. She hoped she 
and Bernice would get to know this Bungalow 
Girl — and soon! 

The girl finished her task and disappeared 
into the house. Nancy waited a bit, and then, 
as she did not come out again, she turned around 
to see what lay beyond the wall on which she 
had seated herself. In her surprise she ex¬ 
claimed aloud, “ Why, it’s gypsies! ” 

The ground fell away into a little hollow be¬ 
low her, with a willow-fringed creek running 
through it. And among the willows there was 
certainly a gypsy camp. Lean horses grazed 
on the bank of the stream; there was a canvas- 
covered wagon and a dingy tent. Blue smoke 
curled from a fire on the ground, and Nancy 



THE GYPSIES 


47 


could see a fat brown baby rolling in the dust 
with a spotted dog. An old woman was stirring 
something in a pot on the fire, and a younger 
one was sitting on an upturned box, mending 
a tattered garment. A man slept in the sun, 
ragged hat over his face. 

Nancy had heard and read of gypsies; she had 
seen plenty of imitation ones on stage and 
screen. But these were real! She turned her 
back to the house, swinging her feet over the 
wall, so that she could watch them. 

Although it was only June, the day was grow¬ 
ing very hot. Plainly the gypsies had little to 
do. The old woman presently left the fire and 
seated herself beside the younger one. Taking 
a pack of greasy cards from her pocket, she 
spread them out on the ground and bent over 
them. 

Several minutes passed. N"ancy grew a little 
drowsy with the heat, and a little impatient with 
the gypsies. Why didn’t they do something? 
Dance, or sing, as they always did on the stage? 
This was dull; she might as well get back to the 
house before her flowers drooped. 

She was getting ready to go when a man came 
out of the gypsy tent. He was so different from 


48 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

the others that she stopped to watch him. His 
feet were bare, as were those of the sleeping 
man, but instead of shabby rags he wore a well- 
pressed blue serge suit, with a clean white col¬ 
lar, and his black hair was smoothly brushed. 

His appearance had a curious effect on the 
other gypsies. The two women sprang to their 
feet. The younger one hurried into the tent 
and came out carrying a camp chair, which she 
placed for him in the shade. The old woman 
quickly dipped a bowl into the pot, and brought 
it to him. The man who had slept roused him¬ 
self and became very busy mending some har¬ 
ness which hung from the limb of a tree. Even 
the baby and the dog ceased their play and sat 
silent, watching the newcomer with solemn 
eyes. He accepted the attentions of the women 
with no sign of gratitude. 

“ Mercy, he must be their king! ” Nancy 
murmured to herself. She could hear their 
voices, but they spoke in some strange tongue 
she could not understand. The tones, however, 
told her that they were addressing the second 
man with respect; almost with fear. 

Nancy studied his face. He was a man of 
perhaps fifty or so, very dark, with little beady 


THE GYPSIES 


49 


black eyes. Not a nice face, she decided. He 
scowled at the women who were doing their 
best for his comfort, and he kicked savagely at 
the dog who came nosing at the bowl of soup 
on his knees. “ I don’t believe a gypsy’s life is 
so romantic, after all,” Nancy thought. “ Not 
with a king like that, anyway! I just know he’s 
as mean as he can be to all of them. I wonder 
why they don’t get up a revolution? They 
must be fearful cowards.” 

Perhaps the man felt her intent stare. All 
at once he lifted his gaze and looked straight 
into her face. Only for a moment, but his eyes 
were so fierce that Nancy thought bewilderedly, 
“ Why, he hates me! ” Was he angry because 
she was staring? Flushing a little, Nancy 
slipped down from the wall on her own side. 

She had dropped her flowers in her haste. 
Well, no scowling gypsy was going to frighten 
her! Sternly she resisted a wild desire to run, 
and run, and not to stop until she was safe in¬ 
side Hallam House, with Daddy’s strong arms 
around her. That was babyish, if you like! 
She had a perfect right to sit on her wall, hadn’t 
she? She hadn’t harmed any one; she’d only 
been looking, because a gypsy camp was a 


50 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


strange and interesting sight. She talked very 
severely to herself while she gathered up the 
scattered flowers. 

A footstep on the hillside beyond the wall! 

Nancy stood perfectly still, trying to tell her¬ 
self that she had not really heard it. 

“ Good morning, little missy, and a blessing 
on your gold head.” The voice was a woman’s, 
and Nancy forced herself to turn around. The 
old woman from the camp stood on the other 
side of the wall, panting a little from her quick 
climb, but smiling coaxingly. 

“ What do you want? ” Nancy asked sharply. 
Thank goodness, it was the woman, and not that 
fierce-looking man! 

“ Just to tell your fortune, Missy,” the old 
woman wheedled. “ Give me your hand — no, 
I want no money. Just the little white hand, 
and I will tell you all the future holds.” 

Her black eyes twinkled wickedly among a 
thousand wrinkles, and Nancy felt that there 
was nothing she wanted less than to have her 
fortune told by this ancient witch. But it 
seemed the quickest way to get rid of her, so 
reluctantly she put out her hand. The gypsy 
woman grasped it tight in her skinny ones. 




“I WILL TELL YOU ALL THE FUTURE HOLDS.” 

Page 50. 








51 


THE GYPSIES 

She bent over Nancy’s palm, crooning to her¬ 
self in that strange tongue. Then she looked 
up, the smile gone from her face. 

“ Trouble and woe, trouble and woe,” she 
chanted in a deep hollow voice. “You have 
come to an ill place, little Missy, where sorrow 
awaits you and yours. Only flight can save 
you! You must go, young maiden; go far and 
fast and do not linger! Those who love you 
must flee with you — heed now the gypsy’s 
warning! Let not the sun go down upon you 
in this place, or you and those with you shall 
rue it forever! You must go, go — only flight 
can save you! ” 

Nancy stood as though spellbound, her wide, 
frightened eyes fixed upon the wrinkled face. 
She tried to speak, to order the woman to go 
away, but the words would not come. She could 
not even think, she could only wait helplessly 
for what was coming next. 

Suddenly the gypsy dropped Nancy’s hand, 
and her voice rose to a wild screech. “ I am the 
seventh daughter of a seventh daughter! I see 
beyond the veil! Trouble and woe, and flight 
alone can save! To an evil place you have come, 
but it is not too late. Be warned, maiden, and 




52 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


warn your loved ones! Sleep not another night 
beneath yon roof! Go, go, go — ” 

“ Say, listen, Grandma, what’s the big idea? ” 
At the cool young voice Nancy stirred and 
sighed, as though waking from a horrid dream. 
It was the Bungalow Girl. She had come up 
quietly behind Nancy, and passed a strong arm 
around her shoulders. Nancy gave a little gulp, 
and buried her head in the pink smock. 

The girl went on speaking to the gypsy. 
“ You know who I am, I guess — my dad’s the 
sheriff here. What do you mean by coming up 
here and annoying this young lady? Come on, 
speak up. What’s it all about? ” 

“ So sorry, Missy.” The old woman’s voice 
was suddenly meek. “ I only told the little lady 
what her palm told me; I am not to blame if 
it frightened her.” 

“ Don’t try to tell me that! ” the Bungalow 
Girl answered contemptuously. “You were 
deliberately trying to frighten her — I heard 
you. Now why? ” 

“ No, no, Missy, I would not do that! ” The 
old woman was positively cringing now, and 
Nancy lifted her head a little and began to 
wonder why she had found her so fearsome. 


THE GYPSIES S3 

Why, she was just a poor old crazy thing who 
could surely have meant no harm! 

The Bungalow Girl was looking thought¬ 
fully across the wall, and down into the hollow 
where the camp stood. “ I don’t understand 
this at all. I wonder — is Ali mixed up in it? 
Did he send you up here? ” 

“ No, no! ” There was terror in the gypsy’s 
husky tones. “ Do not speak that name. Missy. 
It was I — I only am to blame. I swear it. 
I — It may be I misread the palm. I am old, 
and my eyes do not see the lines so plainly as 
once they did. I am but a poor ignorant gypsy, 
I meant no harm. See, I will read the hand 
again — perhaps I shall find a handsome hus¬ 
band for her, and much wealth — let me try —” 
She reached for Nancy’s hand again, but the 
girl shrank back. “ Dont let her! ” she whis¬ 
pered, and the new girl squeezed her hand. 

“We don’t care for any more, thanks,” she 
answered coldly. “You admit that there was 
no truth in what you j ust told her, then ? It was 
simply some silly rigmarole you made up, 
wasn’t it? ” 

“ A mistake — it was all a mistake,” the for¬ 
tune-teller mumbled. “ You will not set the 


54 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

officers upon us, and drive us away from the 
hollow? I am sorry I frightened the golden 
child, see, on my knees I beg her to forgive me. 
I alone am to blame — it was a mistake —” 

“ Oh, all right, all right.” The Bungalow 
Girl silenced her. “You can go, but don’t come 
up here again — you hear me. And tell Ali he’s 
not to come skulking around Hallam House, 
either. My father has warned him once, and 
now I’m warning you. Now go, before I 
change my mind! ” 

The old woman, muttering to herself, moved 
quickly off down the hillside, and the strange 
girl patted Nancy’s shoulder. “ There, now, 
she’s gone. You heard her admit that there was 
no truth in all that wild talk, didn’t you? Just 
a lot of silly stuff she made up to frighten you — 
heaven knows why! Look up, now, and smile. 
I’m Natalie Clarke, your nearest neighbor, and 
I was coming to call on you, anyway, if that old 
witch hadn’t brought me over this morning. I 
saw her from our yard, and I thought I’d bet¬ 
ter come over and take a hand, because you’re 
probably not as used to dealing with gypsies 
as I am.” 

“ I guess I’m not used to it at all.” Nancy 



THE GYPSIES 


55 


gave a shaky little laugh. “ You won’t believe 
me, but I wasn’t as scared as I looked. I was 
more petrified with astonishment than anything 
else. She came upon me so suddenly, and I 
didn’t know what to make of it all. Shall we 
get back to the house ? Of course, I was scared, 
some,” she added honestly, as they pushed 
through the thick weeds. “ And you weren’t 
the least little bit. I do think you must be the 
bravest girl in the whole world! ” 

Natalie laughed. “ I’m not, though — I’m 
afraid of heaps of things. But of course I’m 
used to gypsies and tramps, being the sheriff’s 
daughter. They’re a cowardly lot, really, when 
you stand up to them. But let’s forget it, 
sha’n’t we? I’m so glad you and your sister 
have come. There are no girls in this neighbor¬ 
hood at all, and I’ve been so lonely. I do hope 
we’re going to be friends.” 

“ I just know we are! ” Nancy answered fer¬ 
vently. 


CHAPTER V 


THE NEW FRIEND 

Natalie was easily persuaded to stay for 
luncheon, and as Daddy had asked for a tray 
in his study, the three girls ate alone on the 
wistaria-covered back porch. There was a 
small table there, which Bernice spread with a 
clean blue-and-white cloth. “ I’ve wanted to eat 
outdoors all my life,” she confided to the visitor. 
“ And this is the very first chance we’ve ever 
had. You’re sure you don’t mind? ” 

“ I love it,” Natalie answered promptly. 
“ And I love these nut sandwiches, and the 
salad, and the scrumptious little butter cookies! 
How in the world did you learn to cook and keep 
house so perfectly? I help Mother around 
home, of course, but I could never take hold and 
run the whole place myself.” 

“ Well, you see, I had to,” Bernice answered. 
“ Our mother died when Nancy was a little 
thing, and there was no one but me to take her 
place.” 


56 


THE NEW FRIEND 


57 


“ Oh, I’m sorry! ” Natalie answered softly. 
“ I didn’t know — I shouldn’t have asked pry¬ 
ing questions like that. Will I ever learn to 
keep my mouth shut! ” 

“ But it’s quite all right,” Bernice replied. 
“ We talk about Little Mumsey often — she’d 
hate it if we made a ‘painful subject’ of her. 
She was so gay and happy — we miss her, of 
course,” Bernice’s voice quivered a little, but 
she went on bravely. “ But we know that she’s 
just gone away, and that it isn’t forever. And 
we won’t let ourselves be sad when we think of 
her, because we know that would make her sad, 
too, where — where she is.” 

“ And you called me brave! ” Natalie mur¬ 
mured to Nancy, blinking very hard to show 
she was not crying. 

For a moment no one spoke, and in the silence 
the new friendship seemed to take root and grow 
and blossom. “ She understands! " Bernice’s 
eyes said to Nancy’s. And Natalie’s heart grew 
warm with the thought, “ The brave darlings! 
They shall share my mother! ” 

Then Natalie spoke, quite practically. “I’m 
dying to know all about you two. You came 
from the city, didn’t you? Daddy heard down- 



58 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

town that Hallam House had been left to old 
Mr. Hallam’s grand-nephew, and we were all 
so surprised; we didn’t know he had a relative 
in the world.” 

“ Oh, did you know Great-Uncle Peter? ” 
Nancy interrupted. 

Natalie shook her head. “ No one knew him, 
really. He never went out, and hardly any 
one ever came to see him. Once in a while the 
expressman would bring a huge packing-case, 
and he’d come out and fuss about getting it in 
— he was terribly cranky, and seemed afraid 
the man would break something. It would be 
some of his Egyptian specimens, I guess. And 
sometimes one of the professors at the Uni¬ 
versity would spend a night with him. But 
mostly he lived alone with Ali, his Arab servant. 
Ali was queer, too. I often saw him working 
in the yard, or going to the store, but he never 
spoke to me, nor even looked up. He always 
gave me the creeps, someway. He had a hor¬ 
rid mean, sullen face.” 

“ What became of him when Great-Uncle 
Peter died? ” Bernice asked curiously. 

“ Why, didn’t you know? He went to live 
with the gypsy band in the hollow. I suppose 


THE NEW FRIEND 59 

they must be some sort of relations — they 
turned up the day after the funeral, and have 
been camped there ever since. Daddy says 
some of the farmers are complaining that they 
steal chickens and fruit — if they don’t move 
on pretty soon, he’s going to order them away. 
I’m going to tell him to-night about how the old 
woman frightened you, Nancy.” 

“ Oh, don’t get her into trouble,” Nancy 
answered quickly. “ I was silly to make such 
a fuss about it — she didn’t mean any harm, 
poor old thing.” 

“ What are you talking about? ” Bernice de¬ 
manded, and Nancy flushed. “ I didn’t mean 
to tell you, Sis — it wasn’t anything, really. 
I’m ashamed now for having been such a 
’fraidy-cat. But you should have seen how 
brave Natalie was! ” 

She launched into an account of the adven¬ 
ture, half-afraid her elder sister would scold, 
yet relieved to get it off her mind. Bernice’s 
arm tightened about her precious little sister as 
she listened, and her eyes glowed as Nancy re¬ 
lated how Natalie had come to her defence. 

“ Oh, it wasn’t anything at all,” Natalie re¬ 
peated for the dozenth time. “ What puzzles 


60 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

me, though,” she went on thoughtfully, “ is 
why she did it? Painted that gloomy picture, 
I mean. I’ve had my fortune told by gypsies 
lots of times, just for fun, and they always 
promise you a rich husband and a beautiful 
home. Trying to give you your money’s worth, 
I guess. That’s another queer thing; she didn’t 
want any money. I never heard of one of them 
offering to tell fortunes for nothing before. 
Just what was it she said, Nancy? ” 

As well as she could Nancy repeated the 
soothsayer’s words. “ Sounds to me like an at¬ 
tempt to frighten us away from here,” Bernice 
commented thoughtfully. 

“ Exactly what I thought! ” Natalie agreed. 
“ And do you know, I looked down the hill 
while we were talking to her, and saw Ali peer¬ 
ing up as if he were very much interested. It 
struck me that he had something to do with it, 
so I asked her if Ali had sent her. The poor old 
thing looked simply paralyzed when I men¬ 
tioned him! I just know he put her up to it.” 

“ But why? ” Bernice questioned. “ What 
difference can it possibly make to him where 
we live? ” 

“ Was Ali the dressed-up gypsy? ” Nancy 


THE NEW FRIEND 


61 

asked suddenly. “Because he saw me — be¬ 
fore she came up, I mean. And he looked at 
me — oh, it was the most dreadful look! That 
was what frightened me, really, more than the 
things she said. His eyes made my blood run 
cold.” 

“ Now, kitten,” Bernice began soothingly, 
but Nancy had remembered something. ‘‘ That 
face — the one you saw looking in at the Egyp¬ 
tian Room window yesterday! You said it 
looked fierce — and you were frightened, too. 
Could that have been Ali? ” 

“ I don’t know — I thought I must have 
imagined —” Bernice began uncertainly. “ I 
believe it was,” she went on. “ I’d lots rather 
know that it was a prowling gypsy than — 
than —” 

“ Than an outraged mummy ghost! ” Nancy 
said solemnly, and the two elder girls were 
swept into a gale of sudden laughter. 

“ Oh, Nancy, you’re priceless! ” Natalie ex¬ 
claimed. “ And of course it was Ali, both 
times,” she added. “ What he’s driving at we 
don’t know, but he seems bent on annoying you 
people for some reason of his own. Maybe he 
had some grudge against old Mr. Hallam, or 




62 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


maybe it’s just aimless mischief. Anyway, if 
he gets troublesome we can just have Father 
move him on. Let’s forget him and talk about 
something pleasanter. Can’t you both come 
over to my house this afternoon? I want you 
to know my mother, and I’ve got the cunningest 
baby brother, and a cat with four new kittens. 
And I think we might make peach ice cream.” 


CHAPTER VI 


IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT 

It had been a busy day, and Bernice was 
asleep almost as soon as the two girls settled 
in bed. But Nancy, though her eyes felt heavy, 
was wide awake in her mind. She lay quietly, 
so as not to disturb her sister, and went over 
the whole day again. 

It had been lovely, meeting Natalie! The 
two sisters had had few girl friends in the city; 
it was a delightful new experience, to know an¬ 
other girl who liked the same books they did, 
who laughed at the same jokes, and who under¬ 
stood things without being told. Although 
Natalie was past sixteen, three months older 
than Bernice, she was not a bit condescending 
to fourteen-year-old Nancy. There had been 
girls in Chicago who wanted to be chums with 
Bernice, but who felt that Nancy was too young 
to bother with. Nancy smiled to herself in the 
darkness at the way Bernice had drawn away 
from them when she found that out. The two 


63 


64 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


sisters were everything in the world to each 
other, and a friend to one must be a friend to 
both. Natalie had understood that, right 
away. Natalie was a darling! 

Her mother was sweet, too. She hadn’t 
minded a bit when they dragged out the ice¬ 
cream freezer and made peach ice cream, with 
sun-ripened fruit from Natalie’s very own tree. 
And hadn’t it been good! 

The baby brother was adorable. Pudge, 
they called him. He had not been walking 
very long, and sometimes his fat little legs gave 
way under him, and he sat down with a thud. 
But he never cried at all; just got up with his 
cheerful grin and tried it again. Nancy thought 
it must be nice to have a baby brother like 
Pudge. Probably she could play with him a 
lot, though; it would be almost the same as 
having one of her own. And she was going to 
have a kitten. Natalie’s mother had said the 
black-and-white one could be hers, and she 
could bring it to Hallam House as soon as it 
was old enough to leave the mother cat. 

Sleep was coming nearer now. Nancy cud¬ 
dled closer into her pillow and on closed eyelids 
saw a dim picture of herself, and Pudge and the 


IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT 65 

black-and-white kitten. She was drifting off to 
dreamland, when suddenly into the picture 
came a face; the ugly, sullen face of the dressed- 
up gypsy* O heavens, now the pleasant dream- 
picture was gone, and she was broad awake 
again! 

She stirred restlessly. What had been the 
matter with her this morning? Natalie must 
have thought her the greatest coward in the 
world. No, she wouldn’t think that — Natalie 
understood. But she did wish she had gathered 
her wits about her and told the old woman to 
be off, instead of standing there like a helpless 
baby to be rescued. 

As she had told Natalie, the old woman’s dark 
prophecies had frightened her a little, but it 
was surprise rather than fear that stayed her 
tongue in the fortune-teller’s presence. Her 
real fright had come earlier, when she caught 
that glimpse of Ali’s hate-filled face, looking 
up at her. She remembered how she had 
wanted to run, then, and felt glad now that she 
had made herself stay and gather up her flowers. 
That proved that she wasn’t truly a coward, 
didn’t it? 

What did Ali’s look mean? Had he really 


66 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

sent the old woman up there to scare her, to 
make her believe that she and her “loved ones” 
were in danger if they did not go away from 
Hallam House? But why — why? 

It seemed certain, now, that Ali had been 
prowling about the grounds, watching them 
from the tree while they explored the Egyptian 
Room. Daddy had been very sure Bernice had 
only imagined the face in the tree, and they had 
said nothing to him about the encounter with 
the gypsies. Daddy was deep in his book, and 
was not to be worried about anything. But 
Natalie’s father had come home in time for his 
portion of the ice cream, and the big red-faced 
sheriff had been deeply interested in the girls’ 
story. 

“ There’s something mighty funny about that 
fellow,” he had said. “ He’s been hanging 
around with those gypsies ever since Mr. Hal- 
lam’s death. They don’t usually stay camped 
in one place so long, either. Looks like they 
were waiting for something. But what? 
There’s another thing —” 

He had broken off then, and would say no 
more, except that the girls were to tell him if 
the gypsies annoyed them again. And he had 



IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT 67 


warned them to be very careful to lock the old 
house securely at night. It was Natalie who 
told them, later, that her father had seen Ali 
skulking about the place before they came. 
“ He didn’t want to scare you,” she explained. 
“ But several evenings, after dark, we could 
see some one moving around the garden and 
porch. Once Father went over, and found Ali 
sitting on the veranda rail, smoking his pipe. 
He said the place seemed like home to him, after 
living there so long, and he wasn’t doing any 
harm. But Father warned him he was tres¬ 
passing, and to keep away in future. So you 
see it wasn’t really anything.” 

Nancy, lying in the darkness now and think¬ 
ing it all over, was not quite so sure that the 
whole matter of Ali “wasn’t really anything.” 
She wished she could go to sleep and forget it. 

Funny, the sounds in an old house at night! 
Though after the city clamor the air was so 
still one could almost feel the quiet, there were 
odd little creakings and rustlings Nancy had 
never heard in her city home. Mice, perhaps? 
It must be mice. When they got the black- 
and-white kitten — 

The old stairs squeaked when one walked on 


68 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

them. It seemed quite natural in daylight, 
when Nancy went up and down, to hear that 
funny little squeak under her feet. But — why 
should they squeak now? Daddy had gone to 
his room long ago, Bernice was sleeping soundly 
beside her. The doors were locked, the win¬ 
dows barred; there were only the three of them 
in the house. Why should the old stairs squeak 
now? 

Nancy lay so still she ached from the strain, 
and held her breath to hear better. The up¬ 
stairs corridors were heavily carpeted and the 
boards were firm; it would be impossible to hear 
a footfall if — if there were one to hear. She 
could no longer hear the squeaks from the stair¬ 
case. Probably she had not heard them at all. 
Her imagination again! 

The old clock on the landing struck; a long- 
drawn-out, doleful twelve. Good heavens! 
Twelve o’clock, and she had not been asleep! 
What would Sister say? Besolutely Nancy sat 
up and thumped her pillow into smoothness. 
Enough of this silly lying in the dark, frighten¬ 
ing oneself with imaginary sounds. She 
would — 

What was that? Her head had scarcely 


IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT 69 

touched the pillow when it came — a dull, 
muffled thud from the back of the house. No 
imagination, this time, either, for Bernice 
stirred and groped for Nancy’s hand. “ What 
in the world are you doing? ” she demanded 
sleepily. 

Nancy pressed close to her, her teeth chat¬ 
tering in sudden chill. “ Oh, Sis, wake up! I 
can’t sleep, and I’m so frightened! There’s 
something — some one — oh, I don’t like this 
house! ” 

“Stop it!” The elder sister, wide awake 
now, held Nancy firmly in her arms. “ What 
have you been up to? What did you drop that 
made that crash? Have you been downstairs 
making fudge again? ” 

“ Mercy, no! Do you think I’d go wander¬ 
ing around this house at dead of night ? Fond 
of fudge, I may be, and I do think you’re mean 
not to let me make it oftener — but my good¬ 
ness, I guess I’ve got a little sense! And if you 
knew what I’ve been through, lying here listen¬ 
ing to — to mummy ghosts climbing the stairs 
— and then you go and accuse me — oh, why 
did we ever come to this horrible place? The 
gypsy woman warned me, she said we would 



70 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

rue it! And I am — I’m just rueing it like 
everything this very minute! ” 

Bernice was out of bed now, and snapping on 
the light. “ Let me look at you, and see if this 
is ‘thrills’ or the real thing. Um — well, about 
half and half, I should say. Something did 
frighten you, and you’re piling on the mummy 
ghosts and the gypsy’s warning for good 
measure. Come on, now, tell Sister all 
about it. ” 

She left the light on, and hopped back into 
bed. Nancy, wrapped in the counterpane, be¬ 
gan to feel warm and cozy again. After all, 
what was there to tell? She had fancied she 
heard the stair squeaking; she had certainly 
heard the thud which had awakened Bernice. 
All the rest of her troubled thoughts had been 
— just thoughts. They had seemed real 
enough in the darkness, but under the bright 
electric light and her sister’s waiting eyes they 
melted away into nothing. 

Nancy’s native good sense asserted itself. 
“ I guess it was just ‘thrills,’ after all,” she 
admitted frankly. “ I got to worrying, when 
I couldn’t sleep — thinking about the gypsy 
woman, and Ali, and wondering what he was 


IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT 71 

up to. Nothing happened, really, except that 
noise. You heard it too. What could it have 
been? ” 

“ I can’t imagine.” Bernice suppressed a 
yawn. “Probably the wind banging a shutter 
on the outside of the house, or — or something. 
Do we get some sleep to-night, or don’t we? 
I wish you’d stage these dramatic scenes in the 
daytime, darling! I’m simply dead for sleep.” 

“ Oh, you’re so practical! ” Nancy crawled 
to the foot of the bed and put out the light. “ I 
like you to be that way, though,” she confided, 
as her head found the pillow. “ One vivid imag¬ 
ination in the family is enough, say I. I am 
sleepy, now. Do you know it’s after twelve? 
Isn’t Pudge cunning? I’m almost sure that 
sound came from the Egyptian Room. Sis, 
did you hear me? I said —” 

“ The little Maltese was sweet, but I 
liked the black-and-white one best,” Bernice 
answered dreamily. 

“ Me, too. I’m going to teach him tricks —” 
The old clock struck again, but no one heard 
it, for Hallam House was wrapped in slumber. 



CHAPTER VII 


THE STRANGE FOOTPRINT 

“ Well, I’m all for exploring the Egyptian 
Room. Nancy’s sure your mysterious crash 
came from there, and we can at least see if any¬ 
thing’s been disturbed. Besides, I’m dying of 
curiosity to see the place,” Natalie ended 
frankly. 

It was the afternoon of the next day. Nat¬ 
alie, upon her arrival after lunch, had listened 
with eager interest to the story of the midnight 
alarm. The sisters, in the sober light of day, 
had agreed that it was not important enough 
to bother Daddy with, but the new chum pro¬ 
vided an ideal listener. After all, it had been 
mysterious, that muffled crash in the sleeping 
house. And in broad daylight Nancy was re¬ 
covering some of her delight in mystery, which 
had been strangely lacking last night. 

“ All right, let’s,” Bernice agreed. “We 
won’t need the key — Daddy didn’t lock it up 
again after we were in there. There’s nothing 
worth stealing, you know. Come along.” 

72 


THE STRANGE FOOTPRINT 73 

From the threshold, the big room seemed 
just as they had left it after their first and only 
visit. It was not until they had opened the 
blinds that Bernice made her discovery. The 
stone sarcophagus lid, which she had last seen 
standing against the wall, was now lying flat on 
the dusty floor. 

“ Here was our crash, Nancy,” she exclaimed. 
44 No wonder we could hear it in the front bed¬ 
room— this thing must weigh himdreds of 
pounds.” * 

The other two girls advanced and studied the 
fallen slab. 44 Did it just fall over by itself? ” 
Natalie asked doubtfully. 

“ It must have,” Bernice answered. 44 When 
we were here last it was tilted against the wall, 
and now — well, you see.” 

“ But I dont see.” Natalie puckered her 
brows over the problem. 44 The windows are 
closed, so we can’t blame the wind. If it had 
been overbalanced, it would have fallen long 
ago, it seems to me. I don’t see how it could 
have toppled over suddenly, like that, in the 
middle of the night, unless something touched 
it. Do you? ” 

“ Girls, look! ” Nancy was pointing to the 


74 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

floor in the corner near which the coffin lid lay, 
and her voice had a ring of excitement which 
startled the older girls. “ Look, there in the 
dust! ” 

“Shades of Robinson Crusoe!” breathed 
Natalie. “ It’s a man’s footprint! And a bare 
foot, at that! ” 

The girls stared at each other, and then their 
eyes sought the floor again. There could be no 
doubt of it. The room had been so long 
neglected that the dust was deep, and clearly 
outlined in it was the perfect print of a large 
bare foot. 

“Your father—” began Natalie, but the 
sisters laughed. “ Daddy never goes barefoot, 
even to the bathroom,” Bernice explained. 
“ He’s quite fussy about his slippers — he must 
have a dozen pairs. And of course he hasn’t 
been in here since he came with us. Let’s see. 
The men from the Museum came in here to pack 
Uncle Peter’s collection, didn’t they? ” 

“ That was nearly three months ago — I saw 
them when they came,” Natalie answered 
promptly. “ And this print is fresh, any one 
can see that. Look at the footprints you’ve 
just made, and then — over there, Bernice, that 


THE STRANGE FOOTPRINT 75 

must be yours from the other day. See how 
the dust has already sifted in and dimmed it? 
This bare print was made since you opened the 
room this week; I’m sure of that.” 

“ Here are some more of them,” Nancy an¬ 
nounced. “ They’re harder to see where they 
cross ours, but — why, he’s left this case open! ” 

The other girls hurried to her side. The case, 
one of the pairs in the middle of the floor, had 
surely been tampered with. Its satin lining had 
been rudely ripped loose from the base; some 
little terra cotta figures inside were jumbled 
together. The sliding glass door was half open. 
This was odd, because the cases, while not 
locked, were fastened with bolts concealed in 
such a way that a stranger would hardly know 
how to find them. 

Natalie glanced at the trail of bare footprints. 

“ He came in at the door, and straight to this 
case here,” she decided. “ He searched it, and 
not finding what he was looking for, started for 
the wall case next to the coffin lid. Someway he 
brushed against the lid, knocking it down. 
Then he turned and ran — see, the steps lead 
straight back to the door again. I suppose he 
was afraid some one would come when they 



76 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

heard the crash, and made his escape as quickly 
as possible.” 

Bernice had been scanning the floor toward 
the other end of the room. “ I think there have 
been bare footprints here, too,” she said per¬ 
plexedly. “ But I’m not sure — they’re so 
blurred that they might be Daddy’s from the 
other day. They’re bigger, though, like the 
bare ones. Only they’re not fresh like these.” 

“ Maybe last night wasn’t his first visit,” 
Natalie suggested, and Nancy gave a delighted 
little shudder. 

“ Mummies have bare feet, haven’t they? 
Oh, just suppose it was a mummy ghost, and 
he walks here every night! Ooh, just suppose 
that !" 

“ Well, if he walks here every night, he ought 
to know enough not to knock things around,” 
Natalie laughed. “No, I’m afraid a ghost 
won’t account for these footprints. They were 
made by a living man, a barefooted man, and 
he was searching for something.” 

“ But searching for what? ” Bernice de¬ 
manded. “ There’s nothing here. Great- 
Uncle Peter willed his collection to the Uni¬ 
versity Museum, and they came and took away 


THE STRANGE FOOTPRINT 77 

everything that was worth having. What could 
any one hope to find here? ” 

“ Well, that’s only one mystery,” Nancy put 
in. “ There are heaps of others. Who is Bare- 
toes? How did he get in? What — Oh, it 
makes my head swim! ” 

“ Mine, too,” Natalie agreed. “ I’m only 
certain of one thing — Baretoes, as you call 
him, believed that there was something worth 
having in this room, or he wouldn’t have taken 
such chances to come here and search for it.” 

“ Well, I don’t believe he found it,” Nancy 
said eagerly. “ It was dark — he wouldn’t 
have dared turn on the lights, for fear of being 
seen from outside. So he’d have had to use a 
flashlight, and when that thing crashed he was 
afraid to stay any longer. I just know he didn’t 
find it! Don’t you suppose, if we looked very 
hard, we could find it, whatever it is? Maybe 
that would solve the whole mystery! ” 

“You do have ideas, small one!” Natalie 
said admiringly. “ Come on, let’s do it.” 

The search was a long and tiring one. It was 
especially difficult because they did not know 
in the least what they were searching for. But 
they poked into every nook and cranny, turning 



78 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

the vases upside down to make sure they held 
nothing; lifting the cases’ satin linings as Bare- 
toes had done, to make sure they concealed only 
bare boards. No discovery of any sort re¬ 
warded their efforts. 


CHAPTER VIII 


“speak, bubastis!” 

Exhausted, with disordered hair and grimy 
hands, Nancy sank down on the low platform 
which held the stone cat she called Bubastis. 
The two older girls had come to the last possible 
hiding-place, the great red Ali Baba jar. 
Slowly and carefully they lifted it from the wall 
case and began turning it over on its side, for it 
was too tall to reach into when it stood erect. 

Nancy twisted about to see the carven cat 
face above her. The stone eyes were gazing 
straight ahead, wise and serene. “You know! ” 
Nancy addressed the figure. “You sit here, 
so quiet and calm, and all the time you know 
everything. Who Baretoes is, what he was 
looking for — and where he might have found 
it! Can’t you talk, Bubastis? Just this once? 
We’ll never tell that you forgot your dignity 
and spoke to ordinary humans. You look wise 
enough to know all the secrets in the world. 
And we’re only asking you for one — just one, 

79 


80 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

Bubastis! Won’t you please, please, tell us the 
secret of Hallam House? ” 

The stone cat continued to look straight 
ahead, and his majestic face did not quiver. 
“ Oh, well, if you’re going to be mean about 
it—” Nancy began, and broke off suddenly. 
An idea had come to her, an idea so utterly 
absurd that she laughed at herself, even as she 
wondered — 

“ Nothing but dust! ” Bernice exclaimed dis¬ 
gustedly, her arm plunged to the shoulder in the 
Ali Baba jar. She felt carefully all around 
the inside, however, before she withdrew her 
arm and with Natalie’s assistance set the jar 
upon its base again and closed the glass door. 
“ I saved it for the last, too, because it looked 
such a wonderful hiding-place. Oh, well — 
what are you doing, kitten? ” 

Nancy had risen, and, with her arms about 
the stone cat’s neck, was trying to bring her 
eyes to the level of his. “ Now show me, 
Bubastis,” she murmured coaxingly, but with a 
little giggle at her own foolishness. “ Show me 
exactly what it is you see. Come on, nice kitty! 
You’re looking at it so earnestly — it must be 
the secret! Please let Nancy look, too! ” 


“SPEAK, BUBASTIS!” 81 

“ Well, of all the crazy notions—” Bernice 
began, but Nancy interrupted her. “ That 
wall case over there, Sis — no, bother, it’s the 
next one! No, it isn’t either. O dear, if I 
could only get my head —” 

Bernice stared, but Natalie came to Nancy’s 
side with quick interest. “ You’re trying to see 
what the cat is looking at — is that it? ” 
Nancy nodded, a little shamefacedly. “ He 
knows , Bubastis does. And he’s staring so hard 
— and of course there’s no other way he could 
tell us — if only my head didn’t get in the way 
I could see exactly what he means me to! ” 

“ Here, then, let me fix you.” Good- 
naturedly Natalie knelt in the dust before the 
stone cat, with no regard whatever for her stock¬ 
ing knees. “Put your head right in front of 
his,” she directed. “ A little lower — that’s 
it. Now, let me see.” 

Still on her knees, she hunched herself to 
the side and surveyed the two profiles, Nancy’s 
and the cat’s. “ Come and see what you think, 
Bernice,” she called, and the older sister, in¬ 
terested in spite of herself, came and knelt on 
the other side. 

The smaller girl held perfectly still and let 



82 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

them twist her head as they would. The crouch¬ 
ing position she had to take was uncomfortable, 
but she did not even feel it, for her excitement 
was growing every minute. 

With her hands Natalie tilted Nancy’s chin 
a little higher, and then pronounced the position 
perfect. “Now — whatever you see straight 
in front of you is what the cat is looking at. 
What is it, Nancy? ” 

“ That wall case in the farthest corner, where 
those bowls and cups are,” Nancy replied in¬ 
stantly. 

Bernice hurried to the case, while Nancy 
continued to stare straight ahead, her eyes fixed 
upon the very point at which the cat had gazed 
so unwinkingly. The corner was dusky, and 
Nancy could scarcely make out the objects 
which the case held. Bernice began touching 
them, one by one. 

“ Higher — the next shelf! ” Nancy called. 

This case was one of the few in the room that 
were fairly well filled. Its four shelves held 
an assortment of rudely shaped dishes; some 
highly glazed in brilliant colors; others of 
plain rough clay. The colored ones were orna¬ 
mented with designs probably meant for fruits 


“SPEAK, BUBASTIS!” 


83 


or flowers; most of the plainer ones were cov¬ 
ered with Egyptian writing. Bernice had 
searched this case thoroughly a few minutes 
before, and had found nothing of interest. 

In obedience to Nancy’s directions, she 
touched the pottery on the third shelf. Her 
hand was moving slowly from right to left when 
Nancy suddenly called, “ Stop! That’s it! 
Whatever your hand is on now — that’s exactly 
where Bubastis was looking. Bring it here, 
Sis, quick! ” 

With a sigh of relief, she relaxed to a sitting 
position beside Natalie, who was cross-legged 
on the floor. Bernice came slowly forward out 
of the shadows, and they reached eagerly for the 
small object she carried in her hand. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE YELLOW CUP 

It was a cup of yellow clay, somewhat smaller 
than an ordinary teacup. There was no 
handle, and the modelling reminded Bernice of 
her own efforts in kindergarten. The rim was 
not a perfect circle, and one side bulged lump¬ 
ily, but it stood solidly enough when they set 
it on the floor. No one could call it pretty, but 
it was a homely, sturdy little thing, speaking 
rather of kitchens and baby’s milk than of 
temples and royal burials. 

“ I do think your old cat might at least have 
given you one with decorations! ” Bernice 
voiced the disappointment that all three girls 
could not help feeling. It was silly, of course, 
to think that the stare of the stone cat had really 
meant anything; after all, it had just been one 
of Nancy’s “notions.” But it had seemed so 
real, while they were at it — even practical 
Bernice had felt as though they were on the 
verge of solving the mystery. And this was 

84 


THE YELLOW CUP 


85 


all it had led to; a little cup of common yellow 
clay which they had seen before. It was ridicu¬ 
lous to think that Baretoes had risked arrest 
for housebreaking to make his frantic search 
— for this! 

“ Well, it has carving — look!” Nancy, 
though more deeply disappointed than any one 
else, felt somehow that she must defend Bu- 
bastis’ gift. 44 And I think it’s rather a nice 
little cup, myself. I’m going to take it down¬ 
stairs and drink my milk from it every night. 
It looks as if it really wanted to be of some use 
in the world — not like Great-Uncle Peter’s 
pink-sprigged china, which feels too superior 
for words. I like your little cup, Bubastis.” 
She patted a stone paw consolingly. 

44 Let’s see the carving,” Natalie suggested. 
44 Oh, it’s writing, isn’t it? Dug in with a sharp 
point of some kind while the clay was soft. 
What do you suppose it says? ” 

44 1 wonder.” Nancy followed the inscrip¬ 
tion with her finger. It ran, a single row, all 
around the outside of the top. 

44 Let me see.” Bernice took it into her hand 
and turned it thoughtfully around. 44 It isn’t 
like the writing on the Ali Baba jar, or the 




86 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

coffin lid, either. Those are all pictures — 
fishes and birds and funny-looking loops.” 

“ Didn’t the Egyptians have another sort 
of writing? ” Natalie asked. “ I remember in 
ancient history reading about the Rosetta 
stone. It had three inscriptions, and one of 
them was Greek, and one was hieroglyphics, 



like your Ali Baba jar. What was the third, 
do you know? Could it have been Egyptian, 
too? It’s scandalous the way I forget really 
important things — I’ll never be an educated 
woman! ” 

“ What was the Rosetta stone, anyway? ” 
Nancy put in curiously. “I’m always coming 
across something about it in stories. Was it 
a jewel, in the shape of a rosette? That’s the 
way I picture it, and it sounds so pretty.” 






THE YELLOW CUP 


87 


Bernice laughed. 44 You’re all wrong, Puss. 
It’s more like a tombstone, I should say. A big 
tall slab of black rock, all carved over with 
ancient writing. I think it got its name from 
being found near the Rosetta River — isn’t 
that right, Natalie? ” 

Natalie shook her head. 44 Don’t ask me. 
I’ve told you all I could remember about it. 
Ancient history was my weakest subject.” 

44 Well, I remember a lot,” Bernice went on. 
44 Not from my ancient history, though; it was 
while we were studying Napoleon’s campaigns. 
He’s my favorite historical character, and I 
just devoured everything I could find about 
him.” 

44 Napoleon? ” Nancy asked. 44 Why, what 
did he have to do with the Rosetta stone? ” 

44 Well, nothing, I suppose, except — here’s 
the story, honey, if you want to hear it. When 
Napoleon was at the very height of his glory, 
and really believed that he could conquer the 
whole world, he took an army into Egypt. He 
had an idea of getting across to India and 
seizing the British colonies there, only nothing 
ever came of it. Well, while his army was 
waiting around on the Nile, there wasn’t much 


88 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

for them to do, and some of the younger officers 
amused themselves by digging in the old ruins 
there. Near the little Rosetta River they found 
this big black stone. Like everything else 
in Egypt, it was covered with writing, but one 
exciting thing about it was that some of this 
writing was Greek.” 

“ And some of it was Egyptian, and it said 
the same thing,” Natalie interrupted. “ Like 
the ‘No Smoking’ sign they put up in factories, 
in different languages. The scholars of 
Napoleon’s time could read Greek, of course, 
so they only had to compare the Greek words 
with the Egyptian signs to know what they 
stood for. Excuse me, Bernice — I didn’t 
mean to interrupt.” 

“ Oh, that was all of the story. The French 
carried the stone back with them, and a pro¬ 
fessor named Champollion gave his whole life 
to working out the Egyptian language from 
that stone. And that’s how scholars to-day can 
read Egyptian hieroglyphics.” 

Nancy looked puzzled. “ But how could the 
ancient Egyptians write Greek? ” 

“ They couldn’t. The Rosetta stone dates 
from hundreds of years after the Pharaohs; 


THE YELLOW CUP 


89 


the time that the Greeks conquered Egypt. 
That was around four hundred b. c., and pretty 
ancient to us, but their priests were then using 
a written language nearly two thousand years 
old; the same language their forefathers had 
used on the old tombs. I suppose the ‘modern’ 
priests of the Greek period could write Greek, 
too, or maybe some one else did the Greek part 
of it.” 

“ What was it all about, anyway — the in¬ 
scription on the stone? ” 

“ Oh, nothing important. Just how noble 
the Greek king was, and how the people should 
set up his statue in their temples and honor him 
as a god. It was signed by the Egyptian 
priests, but I suppose the noble king put them 
up to it. Anyway, he didn’t want any one to 
have an excuse to disobey, so he had it writ¬ 
ten three ways: Greek, hieroglyphics, and 
‘ demotic.’ ” 

“ Demotic — that’s the third one I was try¬ 
ing to remember! ” Natalie exclaimed. “ And 
I don’t know now what it was.” 

“ Why, it was Egyptian, too, but an 
easier kind that the common people could use, 
for their letters and everyday business. By 


90 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

that time only the priests used the old-fashioned 
hieroglyphics.” 

“ Mercy, you do know a lot, Sis! ” Nancy 
exclaimed admiringly. “ I never guessed it! ” 

“ I don’t, really,” Bernice laughed. “ I only 
happen to know this little bit because I was 
assigned to look up the Rosetta stone in our 
French history class. I wish I really did know 
something useful; enough to read this inscrip¬ 
tion on your cup, for instance. I wonder if it 
could be Greek? ” 

“ Well, it’s certainly Greek to me! ” Natalie 
said gaily. “ We’ll have to have a try at puz¬ 
zling it out sometime — maybe Mr* Hallam 
left some books in his library that would help. 
Have you girls any idea what time it is? I’m 
supposed to make muffins for dinner. I must 

fly!” 

Nancy, the cup tightly clasped in one hand, 
gave Bubastis a farewell pat as they turned to 
leave the room. “ It’ll be nice for milk, any¬ 
way. Thank you for giving it to me, kitty.” 

As they descended the stairs, after a wash 
and brush-up in the girls’ room, Bernice drew 
Natalie back. 


THE YELLOW CUP 


91 


“ I didn’t want to say any more about it 
before Nancy, she’s so excitable. But this 
Baretoes business, Natalie — I’m worried. If 
some one is breaking into our house — and I 
can’t imagine how he did it, for the doors and 
windows were locked tight last night! But if 
he did do it, and we know he did — well, 
oughtn’t something to be done about it? I just 
hate disturbing Daddy. He’s all wrapped up 
in his book, and if he has to stop and get his mind 
on barefooted burglars, it’s going to bother him 
dreadfully. Do you think I ought to tell him? ” 
“ Well, I suppose you ought,” Natalie 
answered uncertainly. “ But I know just how 
you feel. Baretoes didn’t take anything, so 
far as we can make out, and if he never comes 
back and we never find out who he was you’ll 
just have your father all stirred up over noth¬ 
ing. I wonder if we’d dare — no, we couldn’t, 
unless — wait!” She broke off abruptly, as 
Nancy turned at the foot of the stairs and 
called impatiently, “ Are you two coming? ” 
“ Coming, darling! ” Natalie sang out, and 
to Bernice, as they descended the stairs, she 
whispered swiftly, “ Ask me to come back after 
dinner and stay all night. I have a plan! ” 




CHAPTER X 


THE TEAP 

“ It isn’t the least bit of use,” Nancy an¬ 
nounced calmly, appearing in the door of the 
girls’ room. Natalie and Bernice, who were 
sitting on the cushioned window seat with their 
heads very close together, started guiltily. 
Nancy advanced into the room and seated her¬ 
self firmly on the footstool at their feet. 
“ When you told me, right after the dishes were 
done, that I could make fudge, I knew some¬ 
thing was up,” she went on. “ And when 
Natalie came back with her pajamas under her 
arm and you two dashed up here, I was sure of 
it. The fudge is done — and very nice and 
creamy it is, too; you’d be surprised! So while 
it’s cooling in the kitchen, and before either of 
you get a mouthful, you’ll please just explain 
what this is all about.” 

“ Oh, Nancy, I do think—” Bernice began 
crossly. 


92 


THE TRAP 


93 


“ Don’t say it — you think I’m too young to 
know!” Nancy retorted. “You always fall 
back on that when you haven’t any good rea¬ 
son! Well, young or not, I’m in on this, what¬ 
ever it is. And here I sit until I know ALL.” 

“ She’ll do it, too,” Bernice said to Natalie, 
and in spite of herself she could not help smiling 
down at her little sister’s determined face. 
“ And I did want to keep her out of it! She had 
that fright with the gypsies yesterday, and she 
was awake in the night with some sort of brain¬ 
storm — please, Kitten! ” She made her voice 
very coaxing. “ Just go peaceably to bed and 
get a good night’s sleep, won’t you? And we’ll 
tell you all about it in the morning. Please! ” 

“ Oh, so it’s coming off to-night, is it? ” 
Nancy snapped. “ Well, I’m not the least bit 
sleepy, so don’t count on that. If I have to 
spend the night dogging your footsteps, at least 
I’ll have a huge plate of fudge to keep my 
strength up. I made the double recipe, and it’s 
just too bad that I’ll have to eat it all myself, 
but no doubt I can worry it down. Go right 
ahead, don’t mind me.” 

“ Isn’t she awful? ” Bernice appealed to 
Natalie, but the older girl only laughed. “ I 


94 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

think she’s adorable — I wish she belonged to 
me. And I don’t see any reason at all why she 
shouldn’t be with us in this. There isn’t going 
to be any danger, the way we’ve worked it 
out, so —” 

“ Attagirl! ” Nancy threw her arms about 
Natalie’s knees in a joyous bear-hug. “ Let 
this be a lesson to you, Sister — somebody ap¬ 
preciates me, if you don’t. And now go ahead 
and unfold your fell plot.” 

“ Gracious, where does she get those expres¬ 
sions? ” Natalie chuckled. 

“ Oh, the movies,” Bernice replied resign¬ 
edly. “ All right, Natalie, you tell her. I sup¬ 
pose it can’t be helped.” 

“ That’s the spirit,” Nancy applauded. 
“ And for that enthusiastic outburst, darling 
sister, you shall have your proper third of fudge, 
so cheer up. Proceed, Natalie. I’m all ears.” 

Natalie rose and closed the door Nancy had 
left open. Then, returning to her seat, she 
beckoned Nancy to come closer, and spoke in 
a low, hushed tone. 

“Your father isn’t to know — until after¬ 
ward. Nothing may come of this at all, and 
if it doesn’t, Bernice doesn’t want him dis- 


THE TRAP 


95 


turbed. If it does, of course he’ll have to know. 
So you must promise not to say anything —” 

“I promise!” Nancy interrupted impa¬ 
tiently. “ Never mind all that. What’s it 
about, anyway? ” 

“ Well, it’s about the man who was in the 
Egyptian Room last night — Baretoes. It’s 
almost certain he was looking for something, 
and that he was frightened away when he acci¬ 
dentally knocked over the stone slab. Now if 
he’d already found it, or if he gave up and de¬ 
cided it wasn’t there, of course he won’t come 
back. But if he didn’t finish his search — and 
we only found the fresh footprints around one 
case, remember — why, we thought he might 
come back to-night. And we’re going to hide 
in the disused bedroom nearest the Egyptian 
Room, and watch. That’s all.” 

“ Ooh — and to think I might have missed 
it!” Nancy’s eyes were shining. “ And what 
do we do when we catch him? Point a gun at 
him and say , 4 Halt, villain! Hand over the ill- 
gotten loot ? 9 Who holds the gun, and where 
do we get it? I’m sure there isn’t such a thing 
in the house.” 

“ Nothing like that.” Natalie’s voice was 



96 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

very firm. “ And if you think you’re going to 
be allowed to say a single word, you’re sadly 
mistaken. We don’t speak to him at all — he 
never even sees us. What we do is to wait till 
he is well inside the Egyptian Room, push the 
door shut, and lock it. Then we go wake up 
your father, and I get my father, too, in case 
Baretoes is armed, and let them deal with him. 
It’s father’s job, anyway, dealing with burglars. 
There, that’s the plan. Does it appeal to you ? ” 

“ Well, not so very much,” Nancy answered 
frankly. “ Seems a little tame, if you want my 
opinion. It would be so much more thrilling 
to do it my way! I suppose I’d better not 
criticize, though, or Sis will begin harping on 
a nice peaceful night in bed for me. Natalie,” 
she went on earnestly, “ who do you think 
Baretoes is 7 ” 

“ Well, of course I don’t know,” the other 
girl answered slowly. “But I can’t help hav¬ 
ing a sort of suspicion. It’s some one who 
knows the house, for he found his way to the 
Egyptian Room in the dark. He knows the 
room, too, for he opened the case without any 
trouble. And some one who knows what he’s 
looking for! An ordinary burglar would be 


THE TRAP 97 

far more likely to tackle the furnished rooms. 
And —’” 

“ Wait, I want to see if we’re thinking of the 
same man,” Nancy put in. “ He would be 
some one who’s used to going barefoot. Any¬ 
one might take off his shoes to keep from mak¬ 
ing a noise, but there’d be his socks, wouldn’t 
there? This man’s feet were bar el And the 
man I’m thinking of was barefooted when I 
saw him.” 

“You notice a lot, don’t you? ” Natalie 
nodded. “ Though he wore American clothes, 
he was always barefooted about the house and 
yard. He wore shoes to market in winter, but 
that was all. Old Mrs. Dunn, in the bakery, 
was awfully scandalized at what she called his 
4 heathen ways ’.” 

“You are thinking of Uncle Peter’s servant, 
then! So was I. It couldn’t be any one else.” 

“ I’ve been sure it was Ali all the time,” 
Bernice put in. “ Natalie’s father said he had 
been prowling around here, and I certainly saw 
him spying on us the first time we visited the 
Egyptian Room. And he put the fortune¬ 
teller up to trying to frighten us away — of 
course, he would do that if there was something 


98 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


in the house he wanted to find! Probably he 
was afraid we’d find it first. It’s getting clearer 
and clearer, when you reason it out.” 

“ All but the mysterious something he’s look¬ 
ing for — that’s getting no clearer,” Nancy 
objected. “ Bubastis says it was the little yel¬ 
low cup, but it couldn’t have been, because it 
was right there in plain sight. I don’t see why 
Bubastis wanted to fool me like that, when I 
asked him so nicely, and took so much trouble 
over it. 

“ There’s something else! ” Bernice was not 
listening. “You know the door to the little 
side porch, opening off the kitchen passage? 
We’d never used it, but to-day I thought I’d 
hang the dish-towels there to sun. Well, the 
door is locked, and not a key on the ring Mr. 
Charlton gave us fits it. So —” 

“ Ali always used that door! ” Natalie chimed 
in excitedly. “ It’s on the side nearest our 
house, and I’ve seen him often, going out and 
coming in with his market basket. When Mr. 
Charlton took charge, Ali simply didn’t hand 
over the key with the others. There’s some¬ 
thing in the house he wants, and he’s not going 
to quit till he finds it.” 


THE TRAP 


99 


“ But what? ” Bernice asked hopelessly. 
“ If it was anything of his own, some posses¬ 
sion he’d forgotten, he has only to come and 
ask. The attic bedroom he slept in had been 
carefully tidied, and I didn’t see anything in it 
that he could have overlooked. But if he left 
something —” 

“ He didn’t leave it,” Nancy protested. 
“ Any one with a mean selfish face like his never 
forgot to take everything that belonged to him. 
This is something that doesn’t belong to him, 
something he knows he has no right to, you can 
be sure of that.” 

“ Well, it’s no use bothering our heads about 
it now,” Bernice said briskly. “ Listen, there’s 
Daddy coming upstairs. Not a word! He 
won’t be long getting to sleep, poor dear! 
Authoring must be terribly tiring work, when 
you put in whole long days at it.” 

“ Who’s slandering an honorable profes¬ 
sion? ” Daddy demanded from the doorway, 
and Bernice jumped. He had not heard the 
first part of her remarks, however, so that was 
all right. 

“ Oh, Daddy, this is Natalie, the girl you’ve 
heard us talk so much about,” Bernice said, a 


100 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

little breathlessly. “ She’s staying all night 
with us.” 

“ That’s nice.” Mr. Enfield came into the 
room and gravely shook hands with the visitor. 
“ Didn’t a noble aroma of fudge greet my 
nostrils as I locked the kitchen door? ” he in¬ 
quired. 

Nancy jumped up with a little cry. “ Mercy, 
I forgot all about it. Wait here, Dads! ” 

When she returned, proudly bearing a plate 
piled high with rich brown squares, she found 
Daddy talking to Natalie with real interest. 
“ This young lady knows something of politics 
herself, I find,” he remarked, as he helped him¬ 
self from the plate. “I’d like to meet your 
father, my dear,” he went on. “ The sheriff of 
a rural county gets a different slant on things 
from city politicians, and I’m sure he would 
be interested in what I’m trying to do in my 
book. Bring him over sometime when you call, 
won’t you? The sooner the better.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Enfield, I surely will,” 
Natalie answered. “ Father* wants to meet 
you, too. And I think — I think it’s going to 
be quite soon.” She glared at Nancy, who 
turned a beginning giggle into a cough. 



THE TRAP 


101 


“ That will be fine,” Mr. Enfield agreed 
heartily. “ Well, bed’s the place for a laboring 
man.” He stretched and yawned. “ The 
candy was delicious, Nancy girl. How about 
a good-night kiss? Good night, darlings; 
good night, Natalie. Don’t sit up too late, 
girls — beauty sleep, you know.” 

When he was safely gone Natalie exclaimed, 
“ Why, he’s a darling! I never supposed an 
author would be just human, like that. And 
really, Bernice, the impression you gave me 
— ‘ Daddy mustn’t be disturbed — we mustn’t 
bother Daddy with it — don’t go near the 
study, Daddy’s working —’ Why, I thought 
he must be an ogre! ” 

Bernice laughed. “ I’m afraid it did sound 
that way. But you see, Natalie, it’s like this. 
Daddy wants to do this book, and others like 
it, more than anything else in the world. And 
he’s never had a chance to get started at it be¬ 
fore. We’ve hardly any money, you know — 
just enough to see us through this summer, and 
only enough for that because there’s no rent 
to pay, and living is cheaper here than in the 
city. When the summer is over and the money 
is gone — well, the book just has to be done , 





102 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

if it’s ever going to be. So every minute of 
Daddy’s time is precious, and I just won’t have 
it taken up with other things unless there’s no 
way to help it.” 

“ Good for you! ” Natalie applauded. 
“ And I suppose when the book is done it will 
make your fortune, and then all your worries 
will be over.” 

“N— No, I’m afraid we can’t count on 
that,” Bernice’s face clouded. “ Daddy’s sort 
of books can’t be best-sellers, you see. But if 
he gets it done, and if he finds a publisher right 
away, and if it has any sort of sale — well, 
there’s a chance that it will bring in enough to 
keep us, and let him go on writing others. In 
the end, as he becomes established as an author¬ 
ity, it will mean a nice income from the work 
he loves, but it will take years. And every¬ 
thing hangs on this first book — with all those 
‘ ifs ’! And if they go wrong — if the book isn’t 
finished, or doesn’t get published — why, then 
there’s nothing for Daddy to do but to go back 
to newspaper work again. And I don’t see 
how I can bear it! ” 

“ Bernice and I are the real trouble,” Nancy 
put in. “ If Daddy didn’t have two expensive 


THE TRAP 


103 


daughters to clothe and feed and educate, he 
could write his books and live perfectly well 
on what they brought in. We’re millstones 
around his neck, that’s what we are.” 

“ Nancy, you mustn’t say such things.” Ber¬ 
nice’s voice was actually stern. “ Daddy never 
felt that way about us, not for one minute. We 
mean more to him than a million books, and 
you ought to be ashamed to make Natalie think 
that he’s — he’s that kind! ” 

“ But of course I didn’t think it,” Natalie 
soothed her. “ Any one who has ever seen your 
father would know that you two girls are the 
whole world to him. It’s too bad,” she went 
on thoughtfully, “ that he has to have this 
money-worry right now. It will be only a few 
years until you girls are able to look out for 
yourselves.” 

“ That’s it! ” Bernice answered eagerly. “ If 
we can just get through the next few years, and 
finish college and be self-supporting! I’m go¬ 
ing to be a domestic-science teacher, did I tell 
you? And Nancy thinks she’ll go in for dress¬ 
designing — she’s frightfully artistic. It’s just 
this in-between time that’s the problem. We 
were so excited when Mr. Charlton wrote 


104 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

Daddy he was Uncle Peter’s heir — it seemed 
like the answer to everything. And then when 
it turned out that there wasn’t any money, just 
this old house that nobody else would have — 
well, it was disappointing.” 

“ It was fierce! ” Nancy burst out. “ He 
could have left us the collection just as well as 
not, the stingy old thing! That was worth real 
money, and he had to go and give it to the Uni¬ 
versity. It makes me furious! The lawyer 
told Daddy that Great-uncle was a really 
rich man when he got this Egyptian craze, and 
he put every cent he had into that miserable col¬ 
lection. If you ask me, I think there ought to 
be a law against such things! ” 

“ Oh, well, calm down, chicken,” Bernice 
passed a tender hand over the tumbled golden 
curls against her knee. “ We’ve got a roof over 
our heads, anyhow, and what Great-Uncle 
Peter did with his money was his own business. 
As Daddy says, we’ll manage some way; we 
always have. And now — Daddy’s light has 
been out for quite a while; he must be sound 
asleep by this time. I’ll go down to the library 
and get the Egyptian Room key.” 

“ Here it is,” Nancy produced it from the 


THE TRAP 


105 

pocket of her middy. “ I brought it up when 
I went after the fudge. We’d better take a 
flashlight, don’t you think? So we can find the 
keyhole quickly — those corridors are as dark 
as a pocket at night.” 

“ All right, I’ll get it.” Bernice went to the 
dresser drawer and produced the small flash¬ 
light Daddy had given her for her last birthday. 
She looked around, considering. “ Is there 
anything else we ought to take with us? We 
don’t want to be running back and forth. 
Can you think of anything, girls? ” 

“ The fudge,” Nancy answered promptly. 
“ It may be a long wait, and excitement always 
makes me hungry. Ready, Natalie? Oh, I’m 
so thrilled! Do hurry! ” 

“ Careful passing Daddy’s door,” Bernice 
cautioned. 

One by one the three small figures stole 
silently down the dark corridor. Their room 
opened on to one of the side passages; they had 
to go back to the stairhead and take the main 
corridor from there. Nancy gave a fearful 
glance down the shadowy stairs as they scur¬ 
ried by — what if Baretoes were already in the 
house? Nothing stirred, however, and in a few 


106 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

brief minutes they reached the unused chamber 
nearest the Egyptian Room. 

They decided against turning on the lights, 
for fear of attracting attention from outside the 
house. Bernice’s flashlight showed a great dim 
bedchamber, looking more like a dark cave than 
anything else. A heavy brass bed gleamed in 
one corner; from the opposite wall a dark¬ 
framed mirror reflected the torchlight. 

“ Let’s get the pillows,” Natalie whispered. 
They dragged them from the bed, two square 
pillows and a long roll bolster. Because Nancy 
was shivering a little, Bernice brought the thick 
eiderdown quilt, too, and the three girls, closing 
the door to a narrow crack, huddled on the 
floor before it, the pillows under them and the 
warm coverlet over their shoulders. Nancy 
transferred the fudge to her lap, setting the 
plate carefully out of the way, “ so I won’t 
walk on it when I leap up,” she explained. She 
found a resting place against her sister’s 
shoulder, and fixed her eyes on the crack. “ If 
I see him first, what shall I do? ” she demanded 
in an excited whisper. 

“Sh!” Bernice whispered back. “Don’t 
do anything, silly, except hold your breath. 


THE TRAP 


107 


We’ll give him plenty of time to get quite a 
way into the room before we close the door. 
Maybe he’ll close it himself — I should, in his 
place. Anyway, we’ll wait a minute or two, 
and then —” 

“ Let’s divide up,” Natalie suggested, in the 
same whispered tones. “ One of us take the 
key — all right, you, Bernice. Nancy shall hold 
the flash, and I’ll close the door, if he leaves it 
open, and find the keyhole. We’ll have to move 
quickly and quietly, so he won’t hear a thing 
till he’s safely locked in.” 

“ Fine! ” Bernice agreed. “ And no one is 
to move until I say ‘ Now! ’ no matter what we 
see. Then we’ll all act at once, and there won’t 
be any chance of spoiling things.” 

“ You’re sure about the windows? ” Natalie 
asked anxiously. “ It would be terrible if he 
escaped that way, after he’d walked into our 
trap.” 

“ Not a chance,” Bernice replied confidently. 
“ Every one of them has strong iron bars, so 
close together a cat couldn’t get through. No, 
if Mr. Baretoes is foolish enough to stick his 
head into that room to-night, we’ve got him.” 

“ Oh, if he’d only hurry! ” Nancy gave a 


108 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


little squirm of impatience. “ I don’t see how 
I’m going to stand it, waiting here in the 
dark! ” 

“ Well, if you’d rather go to bed,” her sister 
began, but Nancy silenced her by cramming a 
square of fudge into her mouth. 

“ I don’t think we’d better talk any more,” 
Natalie whispered, feeling about for the square 
Nancy held ready for her. “ It’s getting late. 
If anything is going to happen — and mind 
you, we may have all our trouble for nothing! 
— But if anything is going to happen, it 
oughtn’t to be long now.” 



CHAPTER XI 

WILL HE COME? 

As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark¬ 
ness, Nancy could make out the Egyptian 
Room door, and the bit of passage the narrow 
crack showed. The fateful door was closed, 
but not locked, just as they had found it when 
they began their explorations this afternoon. 
The gloom was so deep that she was not sure 
she would be able to make out a figure, should 
one appear, but she consoled herself by think¬ 
ing that he would have to make some sound in 
turning the knob, even though he came bare¬ 
footed over the thick carpet. She wondered 
with a little shudder what would happen if he 
should open this door instead, and find the 
three of them crouched there on the floor. 
Funny the older girls hadn’t thought of that, 
when they were working out a plan that should 
be perfectly safe — and tame! 

That was foolish, though. Baretoes knew 

109 



110 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

his way well enough; he wouldn’t go wandering 
about among the uninhabited rooms. He was 
after something, and he knew, or thought he 
knew, that it was to be found in the Egyptian 
Room. 

For the thousandth time Nancy asked her- 
self, “ What could it be? ” She had had the 
queerest feeling this afternoon, when they were 
experimenting with the stone cat. It was 
exactly the sort of feeling she got sometimes 
when they played “ I Spy ” — a feeling of be¬ 
ing “ warm,” even before she actually saw the 
hidden thimble. Just for a moment, while she 
crouched in front of Bubastis and strained to 
look exactly where he was looking, she had been 
excitedly sure that the secret was about to be 
revealed to her. And then it had all ended in 
disappointment — just a common little clay 
cup which wasn’t even pretty. 

From far below came the muffled tones of 
the old clock. Only eleven — surely it had been 
more than an hour since they kissed Daddy 
good night? To Nancy, it seemed that they 
had crouched here in the dark for centuries. 
“ My foot’s asleep,” she muttered, but Bernice 
and Natalie said, “ Sh! ” together, and she 



WILL HE COME? Ill 

straightened out her crossed legs in careful 
silence. 

Bernice shifted her own position a little, to 
make Nancy more comfortable against her 
shoulder. The long minutes dragged slowly 
by, and no sound or movement came from the 
dark hall they watched so intently. 

There was no wind to-night, and the air was 
so still that the lonesome hoot of a railroad train 
far in the distance came plainly to them. The 
clock struck again, the half-hour; and ages 
after that, it seemed, it struck the hour again. 

Nancy’s head drooped heavily against her 
sister; she was wondering if it would be safe 
to close her eyes just for a second. She tried 
it, and found it so deliciously restful that she 
decided to keep them that way for a few min¬ 
utes, keeping her ears extra wide open to make 
up. Presently, over her head, Bernice breathed 
softly to Natalie, “ She’s off! ” Nancy heard 
nothing at all, for she was wandering in the 
pleasant land of dreams. 

Bernice’s own lids were beginning to droop 
now, and she began to think with longing of 
her soft bed. After all, this was rather a silly 
business! She was cramped and uncomfortable 


112 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

as she sat, and she was afraid to move for fear 
of waking her sister. Surely Ali would have 
been here by now if he had meant to come ? She 
wondered if Natalie would despise her if she 
suggested that they give it up and go to bed. 

She stirred, and opened her mouth to speak. 
But before she could do so, she felt Natalie’s 
hand reach out and grip hers tightly. 
“ Listen! ” The whisper was merely a breath, 
but Bernice was suddenly wide awake, every 
nerve tingling. 

For a long minute she heard nothing, and 
then — very faintly, but quite distinctly, came 
the creaking of the stairboards. And after 
that — hours after, it seemed to the waiting 
girls — there came a rustling in the corridor, 
the lightest possible impression of pattering 
feet on the thick carpet — and a Shadow 
darker than the shadows in the hall, flitted past 
the crack of their door. Their long vigil had 
not been in vain, after all. Baretoes had come! 

As Bernice, in her eagerness to see, bent for¬ 
ward, Nancy roused. Instantly Bernice’s 
hand covered her mouth, but there was no need. 
Little Nancy, quick-witted as always, had 
realized everything in the moment of waking. 



WILL HE COME? 


113 


With the silent swiftness of the cats she ad¬ 
mired, she was on her feet, her finger on the 
button of the flashlight. 

Slowly and cautiously the older girls rose 
also. Bernice stooped to push the pillows out 
of the way so that they could open the door. 
As she straightened, and looked again toward 
the crack, the Egyptian Boom door creaked 
slightly. The Shadow was gone. 

“ It’s all right — he went in and closed the 
door after him,” Natalie whispered in her ear. 
“ Is the key ready? ” 

“Right here!” Bernice whispered back. 
“ Nancy? ” 

“ Ready! ” 

For a full minute they waited, motionless, 
every muscle tense. Then Bernice, gathering 
a deep breath, whispered, “ Now! ” 

More silent than the Shadow himself, the 
three girls stole out into the corridor. Natalie, 
groping in the dark, found the keyhole and 
guided Bernice’s hand to it. Nancy flashed the 
light. Her sister inserted the huge key, and 
as quietly as she could turned it in the lock. 

They had triumphed. Baretoes was their 
prisoner! 


CHAPTER XII 


BARETOES 

“ All right, girls, you can come in now.” 
Sheriff Clarke, though he wore an overcoat 
over pajamas, had looked terrifyingly stern as 
he advanced to open the Egyptian Room door; 
his curt command that the girls wait in their 
own room until he called them had been will¬ 
ingly obeyed. 

Natalie had run home for her father the in¬ 
stant the key was safely turned, while the En¬ 
field girls went to rouse their own father. Both 
men had been utterly bewildered on being 
wakened with the tale of the midnight adven¬ 
ture, and the sisters suspected that their Daddy, 
at least, was more than half inclined to treat 
it as a nightmare. But Mr. Clarke had in¬ 
stantly taken command of the situation, and 
had marched down the corridor, revolver in 
hand, while Mr. Enfield followed close on his 
heels. 


114 


BARETOES 


115 


When Sheriff Clarke’s hearty voice echoed 
down the hall, summoning them to the Egyp¬ 
tian Room, they responded on flying feet. The 
electric lights were blazing now, and Daddy, 
also in pajamas, with his hair still ruffled from 
the pillow, lounged against the stone cat. 
Natalie’s father had found himself a seat on the 
window sill. Before him, safely handcuffed, 
and looking very small and miserable, stood 
the “ dressed-up gypsy,” Ali. His feet were 
bare, and he shuffled them uneasily in the dusty 
floor as he waited with downcast eyes for what 
should happen next. 

Natalie perched on the window sill beside 
her father, while Bernice and Nancy settled 
themselves on the platform where the stone cat 
stood, drawing Daddy down between them. 
Anxious as they had been for adventure, they 
were very glad to leave the handling of their 
captive to two grown men; one of them an 
officer of the law. But their eyes were shining 
with eagerness, and Mr. Clarke smiled ap¬ 
provingly as he said: 

“ Well, young ladies, here is your prisoner! 
He didn’t put up any fight; I found him sitting 
cross-legged on the floor, waiting for me. I 


116 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


suppose when he heard the key turn in the lock 
he knew it was all up, and he didn’t want to 
make it any worse by resisting arrest. He 
hasn’t any weapon, and he’s perfectly harm¬ 
less with the bracelets on, so you needn’t feel 
a bit uneasy.” 

“ Oh, we’re not afraid of him,” Nancy broke 
in. “ But we’re just dying of curiosity. What 
does he say he came for? ” 

“ Well, now, I haven’t questioned him yet 
— thought you three were entitled to hear his 
story, since you made the capture. We’ll get 
at it now. Speak up, you. We know that you 
are Ali, old Mr. Hallam’s Arab servant, and 
that you hang out down at the gypsy camp. 
What —” 

“If the gentleman please,” Ali interrupted, 
in a whining voice, “ I am no Arab. I am 
Egyptian, of the fellahin class. The Romany 
peoples in the hollow are my blood, though 
their fathers come from Mother Egypt many 
ages since. Gypsy is ignorant English word. 
It is not —” 

“Never mind that,” Mr. Clarke cut in 
sharply. “ We’re not here for a geography 
lesson. Get on with it. How did you get into 


BARETOES 117 

Mr. Enfield’s house, and what for? The truth, 
now.” 

“ I come in with key,” Ali answered sullenly. 

“ To the little side door — we guessed that! ” 
Bernice exclaimed excitedly. Ali shot her a 
baleful glare, but nodded. 

“ Don’t interrupt, honey,” Daddy warned. 

“ Go on,” the sheriff was saying. “You 
came to steal, didn’t you? ” 

u No!” Ali’s eyes flamed. “ Not to steal! 
One does not steal his own! ” 

“ I don’t get you.” Mr. Clarke’s voice was 
puzzled. “ I think you’d better open up and 
tell us the whole story, Ali. You’re going to 
jail, anyway, you know, and it’ll go easier 
with you if you tell a straight story now.” 

“ I have done no wrong! ” At the word 
“ jail ” Ali’s dark face seemed to whiten. 
“ You have searched me — I have stolen noth¬ 
ing. I did not break into this house; I entered 
with the key my master gave me. I have done 
no wrong! ” 

“ Well, we’ll be the judge of that,” Mr. 
Clarke answered impatiently. “ What we want 
to know right now is — what were you search¬ 
ing for in this room? ” 


118 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

Ali did not answer for a moment, and Nancy 
held her breath. At last they were to know 
the secret which had so perplexed them, the 
object of Baretoes’ search. What could it be? 

Ali glanced from one face to another, and 
then, with a shrug of his shoulders, seemed to 
resign himself to telling the truth. “ I seek 
the Girdle of Isis — and it is mine!” he 
answered defiantly. 

“ And just what do you mean by that? ” Mr. 
Clarke pursued. 

“ I will tell.” Ali cleared his throat, and 
glanced sidewise into the stern face of his ques¬ 
tioner, as if to see whether there were mercy 
there. “ I will tell all, kind gentleman, and 
you will see there is no fault in me. Many 
years ago, before I am born, before my father 
is born, my father’s father dwell in the valley 
of the Nile. He is rich man; he have his own 
plot of ground for the cotton-growing. But 
comes hard times, cotton crop fails, my father’s 
father must seek coolie work to keep his old 
parents from to starve. So he becomes — what 
you call it ? — he goes to dig among the old 
tombs, for a mad English gentleman who re¬ 
spects not the dead. For a miserable few 


BARETOES 


119 


pennies a day my father’s father dig, with many 
others. Oh, long, cruel work that digging, and 
my father’s father not of that low class! ” 

“ Just a minute! ” Mr. Enfield interrupted. 
“ Your grandfather worked at excavating with 
some scientific expedition — is that it? Do you 
know the English gentleman’s name? ” 

“ I not knowing,” Ali answered sullenly. 
“ He is a madman, but very rich. He uncover 
ancient tombs and temples, sealed for centuries. 
Shameful it is! And what he find he take to 
England, for to display to infidel English. Not 
even for himself does he keep, but give all to 
great English display-house. House being 
called British Mu — Mu — I cannot say it.” 

“ British Museum,” Mr. Enfield supplied 
interestedly. “All right, go on, Ali; I just 
wanted to get that straight.” 

“ My father’s father work many days for 
few pennies,” Ali continued. “ One day they 
digging out ancient temple, what the Old Ones 
build to old goddess Isis. You know her? ” 

“ We’ve heard of her,” Mr. Clarke supplied. 
“ And what happened? ” 

“ I not knowing, exactly. But in ancient 
temple is image of Lady Isis, wearing many 


120 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


jewels. And she speak to my father’s father, 
telling him the gold girdle about her waist is 
for him, to pay his debts and free him from 
this penny digging work. She do this because 
his people in old time worship her, and she 
think kindly of him. She say take, and tell no 
one. My father’s father fear to disobey lady 
goddess. He good Mussulman, you under¬ 
stand, but old goddess very strong still. She 
say —” 

“ Never mind what the goddess said,” the 
sheriff interrupted drily. “ It is plain enough 
that your grandfather made up that little fairy 
tale about the time he decided to steal the girdle 
and cheat the English gentleman. How did he 
get away with it? ” 

“ Not knowing,” Ali repeated. “ I tell as 
my father tell me. My father’s father take the 
golden girdle and go to his home, hiding it. 
There is big search. The mad Englishman 
make such a to-do my father’s father fear to 
try to sell the golden girdle. Allah sends good 
growing to the cotton then, and my father’s 
father needs not the gift, so he keep it many 
years hidden away. When he die it become 
my father’s. He too fear to sell it, and it come 


BARETOES 


121 


to me. I am poor man, I would sell. But alas, 
would English police understand it was god¬ 
dess gift to my father’s father? ” 

“ I rather think they wouldn’t,” Mr. Clarke 
answered. “ But you sold it secretly to Mr. 
Hallam — is that it? ” 

“ I so do. Master mad also, more as English 
gentleman. I go to him as guide; he ask where 
one may buy old treasures. I help him buy 
many. One day he speak of Girdle of Isis. 
Mad digging English gentleman have written 
book, speak of lost girdle he see on image long 
ago. Master say he like very well see that 
girdle. Not at once, but at last I tell him I 
having friend have that girdle, maybe can get 
if he say nothing. He say tell friend he will 
pay ten thousand dollar and ask no question. 
I arrange everything, and girdle goes to him. 
He very pleased. Smuggle it to America. 
All very nice.” 

“ I should think so,” the sheriff agreed. 
“ You make up a ‘ friend ’ so Mr. Hallam will 
not know you are the grandson of the thief. 
And he pays you ten thousand dollars for the 
jewel. That made you a pretty rich man in 
your country, didn’t it? How does it happen 


122 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

that you became Mr. Hallam’s servant in 
America? ” 

Ali spread his hands in a gesture of despair. 
“ I am young man then, and money go, this 
way and that way. It is master’s first time 
in Luxor this happen, you understand. After 
he go with the jewel I live like rich man; many 
friends, much feasting. When he come back 
another time I am poor man again, Allah help 
me. Master say I can come to America with 
him. I come.” 

“ Well, let’s get back to the jewel. Where 
is it now? ” 

Ali rolled his eyes helplessly about the room. 
“ If I could know! ” 

“You mean you don't know? ” Mr. Clarke 
considered. “ You say he smuggled it out of 
the country; of course if he applied for a per¬ 
mit to take it out the authorities would recog¬ 
nize it as stolen property. Probably he didn’t 
dare display it here with his other treasures 
for the same reason. Did he keep it in this 
room? ” 

“ In locked casket in case there.” Ali pointed 
to one of the central cases. “ Always he keep 
it there. He take it out when none is here, 


BARETOES 


123 


and look long time — he let me look, too, but 
no one else. He keep it there always, until — 
until —” Ali faltered badly, and kept his eyes 
on his bare feet. 

“ Go on!” 

“ I serve master well,” Ali whined. “ He old 
man, and feeble, I tend him like baby. I know¬ 
ing and he, too, that he not live for always. And 
one day I say to him, when he no longer here, 
I like have back goddess gift, please. And 
he — he take it from casket and put it some¬ 
where else. I see it never any more.” 

“ Well, that’s plain enough,” Mr. Clarke 
said grimly. “ You let him see that you’ve got 
your eye on the jewel, and he hides it away so 
you can’t steal it.” 

“ Only when he is gone would I take it! ” 
Ali protested. “ I am faithful servant, me! 
And to take it then would not be to steal, for 
it is mine. Did not the Lady Isis give it to 
my father’s father? ” 

“ Did you ever hear such a thing! ” Bernice 
whispered to Nancy. “ He sells it to Great- 
Uncle Peter for ten thousand dollars, and then 
claims it’s still his. I never —” 

“ I’m afraid Mr. Hallam didn’t have so much 




124 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


confidence in you, after that demand,” the 
sheriff pursued. “ How long was it before his 
death that he hid the jewel? ” 

“ About five year, I think,” Ali answered 
sulkily. “ And whatever he think, never, while 
he live, do I try to find it. But after he is gone 
— ah, that is different. I have right to search 
then for what is mine.” 

“ You searched before to-night, didn’t you, 
Ali? ” Natalie put in. “ You were here last 
night? ” 

“ Last night, and many nights before. Had 
not these strangers come, I might have suc¬ 
ceeded, curse them! No, no, I not meaning 
that!” he cringed as Mr. Clarke started to 
speak. “ I having only kind feelings to my 
master’s kin, yes indeed.” 

“ Yes, indeed — so kind that you did your 
best to frighten them away so you could go on 
with your search,” the sheriff rejoined. “ But 
we’re not interested in your feelings. Did you 
find any trace of the golden girdle? ” 

“ No sign,” Ali answered wearily. “ The 
Golden Girdle of Isis is gone away. Maybe 
the old goddess take it back again. Who 
knows? ” 



CHAPTER XIII 


THE LETTER 

“ Oh, come, that won’t do,” Mr. Enfield 
said impatiently. “ You must have some idea 
of where your master put it. Probably it was 
taken to the University with the rest of the 
collection.” 

“ Not so! ” Ali shook his head. “ I am here, 
I help those men to pack. They have taken the 
inlaid casket where once the girdle live, but it 
is empty. Beside, master have not wish that 
school-college shall have the girdle. When he 
is sick I attend him, and just before the end he 
write —” 

He stopped abruptly. “ What did he 
write? ” the sheriff demanded. 

“ Nothing,” Ali answered. “I — I forget 
what I would say. It is nothing.” 

Natalie’s father glanced at Mr. Enfield. “ I 
think we’re getting at something at last,” he 
murmured. To Ali he said severely, “ You 
have gone too far to stop now. You do not 

125 


126 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

leave this room until you tell us the truth, all 
of it. What did Mr. Hallam write before he 
died? Answer me.” 

There was very little spirit left in Ali. With 
a sigh of resignation he answered. “It is a 
letter. He tell me to mail it to the lawyer man. 
And afterward, I — I forget.” 

“ I bet you did,” Mr. Clarke remarked. 
“ Kept it for yourself, eh? Guessed that it re¬ 
lated to the golden girdle, and didn’t want the 
lawyer to know. Have you got the letter with 
you now? ” 

Ali gestured toward his felt hat which had 
rolled to the floor. Nancy was the first to 
pounce upon it, and her eager fingers quickly 
drew a folded paper from the inner band. It 
was soiled and creased, she noticed as she 
handed it to Mr. Clarke. 

He unfolded it and read aloud: 

“Dear Charlton: 

“I’m pretty close to the end of the road. 
I’ve been lying here, going over my whole life, 
wishing I could undo many things. 

“ I was too harsh with Lydia, Charlton. She 
was a frivolous, gay little thing, overfond of 
jewels and dress, but with a sensitive, loyal 
heart beneath it all. We quarreled because I 


THE LETTER 


127 


scolded her for thinking too much of gewgaws, 
and in her hurt pride she never forgave me. I 
was all to blame, and I have gone lonely and 
wretched all these years for punishment. 

“ There is something I have had on my mind 
to speak to you about. On my first trip to 
Egypt, immediately after Lydia broke off our 
engagement, I bought the Golden Girdle of 
Isis. I was half-crazed with grief, and I 
thought to bring it to Lydia, to ask her par¬ 
don. We had quarreled over jewels; I hoped 
to make amends by giving her the loveliest 
jewel I had ever seen. 

“ It was not to be. When I returned I found 
her the happy bride of another. It was too 
late to offer my gift. 

“ The golden girdle is hateful to me now, 
but I have kept it all these years. And since 
I shall go soon to the land where perhaps Lydia 
will listen and forgive, I am troubled about the 
thing. 

“ In the photograph you showed me, of my 
unknown nephew and his family, there was a 
little girl with golden curls and laughing eyes 
— like hers. I forget the child’s name. But 
I should like her to have the girdle. Will you 
put this in my will ? 

“ The girdle is in a safe place, hidden from 
my servant who I think would steal it if he 
could. Long ago I wrote down directions to 
the hiding-place, concealing the clue in such a 
way that it would not easily be found. You will 


128 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

laugh at these precautions, but Ali is sly, and 
there are reasons why I could not have him 
arrested if he stole the treasure. 

“If you will call upon me to-morrow with 
the altered will, I will tell you where I have put 
the jewel. The child is to keep it or sell it, as 
she sees fit. Perhaps it will bring her more 
happiness than it ever brought me. 

“ Faithfully yours, 

“ Peter James Hallam.” 


Mr. Clarke refolded the paper thoughtfully. 
“ Did Mr. Charlton see your master again be¬ 
fore the end? ” he asked. 

“No, kind gentleman. My poor master die 
the next day but one. All the time he talk 
only of a lady name Lydia. I think he — what 
you call — delirious, yes ? He speak not of let¬ 
ter or jewel again.” 

“ Poor Uncle Peter! ” Nancy spoke im¬ 
pulsively. “I do think Lydia might have 
waited a little longer before becoming a happy 
bride, anyway. He must have loved her ter¬ 
ribly.” 

“ He spoke of going to a land where she 
would listen and forgive,” Bernice said softly. 
“ She had died years before, Mr. Charlton told 


THE LETTER 129 

us. Perhaps — perhaps it’s all right between 
them, now. I hope so! ” 

“ Well, Nancy girl,” her father turned to 
her, “ Great-Uncle Peter evidently meant to 
make you the heiress of the golden girdle. 
That much is clear, anyway? ” 

“ Me? ” She asked amazedly. “ Oh — why, 
so he did! I was thinking so hard I didn’t take 
in that part of the letter. Isn’t that lovely! ” 
“But remember, Puss, we haven’t found it 
yet,” her sister said gently. “ How about 
those written directions, Mr. Clarke? Do you 
think Ali knows anything of them? ” 

Mr. Clarke turned to Ali, who shook his head 
dolefully. “ He’s told us all he knows, I 
think,” the sheriff decided. “ If he’d had any 
clue to the hiding-place, he’d have been off with 
the treasure long ago. What I’m wondering 
now is just what we’d better do with him. It’s 
up to you, Mr. Enfield. Do you want to charge 
him with housebreaking, or what? ” 

“Oh, please, kind gentleman!” the gypsy 
began feverishly, but Mr. Enfield waved him 
to silence. 

“ I think not, on the whole,” he said slowly. 
“ It would be a nuisance to me, having to inter- 


130 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

rupt my work and appear at his trial. He’s 
done no real harm here, and he’s given us what 
may be valuable information. I suggest that 
you turn him loose, with a warning to get out 
of town and stay out.” 

“ That’s what I thought,” the sheriff agreed. 
“ It’s more trouble than it’s worth to bother 
with him, and if this romantic story about a 
lost treasure gets into the newspapers you’ll 
be pestered with a horde of sightseers. You 
hear, Ali? This gentleman has kindly con¬ 
sented to let you go, but only on condition that 
you and your gang leave town at once and keep 
away. Get that? ” 

The man began chattering his thanks, but 
Mr. Clarke interrupted to say sternly, “ And 
no more nonsense about the girdle being yours, 
either. Mr. Hallam paid you a fair price for 
it, and it belongs to his estate now. You under¬ 
stand that?” 

“ The goddess gave —” Ali began stub¬ 
bornly, but under the sheriff’s steely gaze he 
changed to “ Yes, kind gentleman. I say noth¬ 
ing, nothing, and I go far away. Is it per¬ 
mitted that I go now? ” 

“ The sooner the better. Better look through 



THE LETTER 


131 


your pockets again, I guess, and make sure 
you’re not getting away with anything. Noth¬ 
ing, eh? Here’s your doorkey, Mr. Enfield.” 
He unlocked the handcuffs and released Ali’s 
wrists. “ Come along, I’ll see you to the door. 
And remember, if I catch you within twenty 
miles of this place again it’s jail for yours. 
Now. Forward, March! ” 


CHAPTER XIV 


SOMETHING ABOUT THE GIRDLE 

At Daddy’s request, Mr. Charlton called 
upon them the following afternoon. Bernice 
brought mint lemonade, and cup-cakes of her 
own baking to the library, and the dry old law¬ 
yer’s face softened into approval. 

“ You have mighty capable girls, Mr. En¬ 
field, I can see that,” he remarked, glancing 
about the orderly room. “ Very unusual nowa¬ 
days, to find young girls who take an interest in 
domestic affairs. Most of ’em haven’t a 
thought beyond dressing up and gadding 
about.” 

“ Like Lydia,” observed the irrepressible 
Nancy, who had curled herself cosily on the 
arm of Daddy’s armchair. She had quite de¬ 
cided that Mr. Charlton’s bark was worse than 
his bite. “ She was dreadfully frivolous, 
wasn’t she, Mr. Charlton? ” 

“ Do you mean Mr. Hallam’s fiancee ? Bless 
my soul, child, who has been gossiping to you? 

132 


THE GIRDLE 


133 


Yes, I suppose we must call her frivolous, 
though she was so beautiful it’s no wonder her 
head was turned. But what brought her to 
your mind ? Have you girls found some of the 
old gentleman’s love letters? ” 

“ Not exactly,” Bernice answered. “ It’s a 
letter, but it’s to you, Mr. Charlton. Oh, do 
tell him, Daddy. We can’t wait any longer.” 

Smiling, Mr. Enfield complied. Assisted 
by the eager girls, he told the whole story of 
the midnight prowler, of his capture, and of 
the strange tale Ali had told. 

“ I’d be inclined to think it was just a fairy 
tale,” he ended. 44 A yarn the Egyptian made 
up when we caught him, to cover his misdoings. 
But — here is the letter which he says Great- 
Uncle Peter wrote to you, and which was never 
mailed. Perhaps you’ll just look it over and 
tell us if it is my uncle’s handwriting? ” 

The lawyer adjusted his glasses and frown- 
ingly read the letter through. 44 It was un¬ 
doubtedly written by my client,” he announced, 
when he had finished. 44 But it’s such a wild 
story — like you, I have difficulty in believing 
it. Mr. Hallam never discussed Miss Stone 
with me, and he certainly gave me no hint that 



134 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

he possessed this treasure. He was the last 
man on earth I’d have suspected of such senti¬ 
ment! ” 

“ He was very ill when he wrote this, if Ali’s 
story is true,” said Mr. Enfield thoughtfully. 
“ Perhaps that accounts for his unburdening 
his mind in a way not usual with him.” 

“ It would, of course — I have known such 
things to happen before. Well, there it is, in 
black and white. Unless Mr. Hallam was 
wandering in his mind, and the victim of delu¬ 
sions, he did possess such a jewel, and he meant 
me to alter his will so that it would go to the 
young miss here with golden curls and laughing 
eyes. Miss — Nancy, is it? Well, well, well! 
Strange things do happen. And what would 
you do with the girdle, Miss Nancy, supposing 
we found it? Wear it around your waist to 
parties, and make all the other girls jealous? ” 

“ Oh, no! ” Nancy’s reply was emphatic. 
“ I’d love to see it, and handle it, of course — 
it must be a beautiful thing! Yes, I think I’d 
try it on, too — I don’t think I could help want¬ 
ing to do that. But after that, I wouldn’t want 
to keep it. I’d sell it to some Museum — it 
must be worth heaps and heaps of money! And 



“Strange things do happen/’ — Page 13 h 




THE GIRDLE 


135 


I’d put the money in the bank, and Sis would 
never have to worry again about affording a 
new coat, or about Daddy having to go back 
to the newspaper, or —” she stopped, confused, 
wondering if she had said too much of family 
affairs to this stranger. 

Daddy patted her head reassuringly. “ It’s 
all right, dear, Mr. Charlton knows all about 
our circumstances. And bless your generous 
little heart, we know you mean every word 
of it!” 

“ Well, well, let’s not be counting our 
chickens too soon.” The old lawyer spoke 
gruffly, but his eyes were very kind. “ The 
first thing is to find this fabulous treasure. It’s 
easy to see why Ali did not mail the letter, since 
he hoped to steal it. As long as no one knew 
it existed, he would have been quite safe in mak¬ 
ing way with it. The Golden Girdle of Isis! 
Now where have I heard of that before? Not 
from Mr. Hallam, I’ll take my oath. Some¬ 
where, quite recently — if I could only re¬ 
member! ” 

“ Ali said it was mentioned in a book written 
by the ‘mad Englishman,’ ” Bernice ventured. 
“ Perhaps you read about it there.” 


136 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

Mr. Charlton shook his head. “I’m no 
Egyptologist — never read such a book in my 
life,” he replied. “ No, it’s been somewhere — 
if I could only think —” 

“No one answered my knock, so I walked 
right in,” came a gay voice from the hallway. 
“ Are you — oh, I didn’t know you had com¬ 
pany! ” Natalie, standing in the door, stopped 
suddenly. 

Mr. Charlton peered at her through his 
glasses. “ Oh, it’s Tom Clarke’s girl. Mercy, 
child, how you do grow. Come in, come in; I 
understand you were the third heroine in this 
exploit last night.” 

Natalie responded politely to his greeting, 
and to that of Mr. Enfield. “ I didn’t mean to 
interrupt,” she said shyly. “ It’s just — I 
found something about the Girdle of Isis, and 
I thought you’d want to see it.” 

From under her arm she produced the maga¬ 
zine section of a Sunday newspaper. 

“ That’s it! ” Mr. Charlton exclaimed. “ I 
remember now, I read the thing several weeks 
ago. An article called ‘ The Romance of Miss¬ 
ing Treasure,’ isn’t it? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” Natalie folded the paper back 


THE GIRDLE 


137 


to an inside page. “ When Ali spoke of the 
girdle last night I was sure it was mentioned 
in this article, but I didn’t say anything for fear 
I might be mistaken. I went through a whole 
pile of papers in the attic this morning before I 
found it again. Wait — here it is.” 

Mr. Charlton took the paper, and began 
reading aloud where her finger pointed. 

Next to the mystery of the Idol’s Eye, 
perhaps the strangest is that of the Golden 
Girdle of Isis. In 1868, Sir Francis Huddle¬ 
ston unearthed a ruined temple of Isis near 
Luxor. The shrine contained a life-size statue 
of the goddess, adorned with blazing jewels. 
Sir Francis and his associates were especially 
impressed with a girdle of gold filigree, wrought 
with great delicacy and studded with precious 
stones, which encircled the idol’s waist. He 
gave orders that the underground room was to 
be shut up until the next day, when he could 
make arrangements to remove the statue in its 
entirety. When that time came, although 
there were no signs that the room had been en¬ 
tered, the girdle had disappeared. The most 
thorough search was made, but to this day its 
whereabouts remain a mystery. The reward 
of three thousand pounds which Sir Francis 
promptly offered for its recovery has never 
been claimed ’.” 



138 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

“ Well, that doesn’t tell us much,” Bernice 
observed. 

“No,” her father agreed, “but it confirms 
Ali’s story. There is such a thing as the golden 
girdle, and it was undoubtedly stolen by one 
of the workmen. If that much of his story is 
true, the rest seems reasonable enough. Your 
inheritance really seems to exist, Nancy.” 

“ Whom does the girdle actually belong to 
Mr. Charlton? ” Bernice asked unexpectedly. 
“ I mean — of course Great-Uncle Peter con¬ 
sidered it his, because he bought it from Ali. 
But Ali had no right to sell it — or did he have? 
For of course he didn’t steal it in the first place. 
But wouldn’t it still belong to Sir Francis Hud¬ 
dleston? ” 

The lawyer’s eyes twinkled. “ Don’t for¬ 
get, my dear, that Sir Francis was engaged in 
taking it — certainly without her permission! 
— from the goddess Isis. You’ve brought up 
a tangled legal question, Miss Bernice, and I 
am delighted to see that you have a keen mind 
as well as the more feminine gifts. The actual 
title to the jewel would be a question for the 
courts to determine.” 

“But Great-Uncle Peter gave it to me!” 


THE GIRDLE 139 

Nancy wailed. “ Do you mean that it wouldn’t 
be mine, then, even if we found it? ” 

“ A compromise safeguarding your interests 
could undoubtedly be reached,” Mr. Charlton 
answered bafflingly. “ That means, my dear, 
that you would be sure of realizing some money 
from it; enough, I should say, to remove the 
worries you spoke of. That was what you 
wanted, wasn’t it? ” 

“Oh, yes.” Nancy looked relieved. “That’s 
all I want! So if we can just find it — but 
we’re no nearer finding it than ever! ” 

Mr. Charlton took Mr. Hallam’s letter and 
carefully examined it again. “— £ Directions 
to the hiding-place, concealing the clue in such 
a way that it would not be easily found.’ 
Humph — now what did he mean by that ? He 
was going to tell me when I called the next day, 
poor old chap! A thousand pities that I never 
got his message. Oh, well, cheer up, little 
lady. Nothing is impossible, you know. There 
must be a way to solve the mystery, if we can 
only find it.” 


CHAPTER XV 


PUDGE DIGS 

Three days had passed since Ali’s capture, 
days of high excitement ending in bitter disap¬ 
pointment. Daddy, Mr. Charlton, and Nata¬ 
lie’s father, eagerly aided by the girls, had ran¬ 
sacked Hallam House from cellar to garret in 
an earnest attempt to find the golden girdle. 
They had begun with the Egyptian Room, so 
thoroughly searched already by Ali and the 
girls; and when it yielded nothing, had gone on 
until every room in the house had been com¬ 
pletely explored. They found absolutely noth¬ 
ing; neither the girdle itself nor the written 
directions at which Mr. Hallam’s letter had 
hinted. 

It began to seem to the grown-up searchers 
that the whole matter must have been a delu¬ 
sion of Great-Uncle Peter’s. This conclusion 
left Ali’s strange actions unexplained, as Nancy 
hastened to point out, but Mr. Clarke said dis- 

140 


PUDGE DIGS 141 

gustedly that no one could account for the do¬ 
ings of a barefooted heathen, anyway. 

The sheriff was a busy man, with work wait¬ 
ing for him, and Daddy was anxious to get 
back to his book. Mr. Charlton alone seemed 
to share the girls’ firm belief that the golden 
girdle was somewhere in Hallam House, but 
he, too, was obliged to give it up and confess 
that the puzzle was too much for him. 

Now, on this third afternoon, Daddy had 
again shut himself into the study with his writ¬ 
ing, and the three girls were hemming tea 
towels on the vine-shaded back porch. Natalie 
had brought guests with her; her baby brother 
and the black-and-white kitten. Two-year-old 
Pudge, with his little spade, was digging hap¬ 
pily in the soft earth at the edge of the porch, 
and the kitten was curled in a furry ball in 
Nancy’s lap. 

They had discussed the mystery over and 
over again, until there seemed nothing left to 
say or to wonder about. Their talk turned to 
books they had read, moving pictures they had 
seen. The Enfield sisters were delighted to 
find that Natalie shared their tastes; that she 
adored their favorite heroines and detested 


142 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


their most-hated villains. They were deep in 
happy chatter when little Pudge laid down his 
spade and came to pull his sister’s dress. 

“ Dwink, Dista! ” he commanded. “ Pudge 
so firsty. Pudge dwink!” 

“ I’ll get it.” Bernice jumped up. “ He’s 
such a darling, Natalie; the way he tries to say 
‘Sister’ is adorable. Say ‘Aunt Bernice,’ 
Pudgie,” she coaxed, dropping a kiss on the 
downy yellow head. “ I’ll bring you a nice 
cold cup of milk if you’ll say ‘ Drink, Aunt 
Bernice’!” 

The baby smiled winningly. “Dwink, An’ 
Bee-meece,” he echoed, and with a laugh and 
a hug Bernice disappeared into the house. 

She returned with Nancy’s little Egyptian 
cup brimming with rich milk. “ Oh, you 
shouldn’t, he might drop it,” Natalie warned, 
but Bernice only laughed. “ He won’t, because 
he’s going to sit on Aunty’s lap and she’s go¬ 
ing to hold it. Isn’t that right, Pudge, old fel¬ 
low? ” 

“ Milk tastes better from Bubastis’ cup,” 
Nancy put in. “ Oh, you needn’t laugh, it does. 
I’ve never used anything else since we found 
it. It’s good, isn’t it, Pudge? Extra good? ” 


PUDGE DIGS 


143 


The baby smacked his lips over the rim. 
“ Essadood! ” he agreed, and drank with greedy 
little gurglings. When he had finished Ber¬ 
nice set the empty cup against the porch pillar 
and cuddled the baby in her arms. “ Stay with 
Aunt Bernice, sweetheart,” she begged. 
“ You’ve dug for over an hour; you’ll wear 
yourself out. Rest a bit and I’ll tell you a 
story.” 

The little fellow squirmed impatiently. 
“No! Pudge dig. Dig dee-eep, dig Shine! 
Pudge go now — dig Shine! ” 

“ He’s digging to China,” Natalie inter¬ 
preted. “ You wouldn’t halt an important 
event like that, would you, Bernice? He’s had 
a perfect craze the last few days. Some one 
told him if you dug deep enough, you’d come to 
China, and he’s determined to prove it. You 
might as well let him down.” 

“ How funny! ” Bernice gave the fat little 
body a final squeeze and set him gently on his 
feet. “ I remember hearing the same thing 
when I was tiny, and the sad part of it was I 
never had a chance to try it out. I did start 
a lovely hole in Lincoln Park, but a policeman 
came along and was quite cross about it.” 




144 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

“ It can’t be much fun, being a city child,” 
Natalie observed. “You miss so much; the 
trees and the birds and flowers, and playing in 
your own back yard. Didn’t you just hate it ? ” 
“Oh, no!” Bernice answered cheerfully. 
“ You see, we didn’t know we were missing 
anything. And there are lots of wonderful 
places to go that you don’t have here — the 
museums, and the zoo, and the beach, and all 
that. Of course we’re enjoying every minute 
here in Rosemont, because it’s so different, but 
if you came to Chicago you’d find just as many 
new things to enjoy.” 

“ Daddy says it isn’t where you are, it’s what 
you are that makes you happy,” Nancy volun¬ 
teered. “ That would be just one of those tire¬ 
some ‘elevating thoughts’ if a teacher said it, 
but Daddy makes you see that it really means 
something. Ho, hum, it’s a sleepy day. What’s 
that big bug that keeps buzzing around the 
wistaria blossoms, Natalie, or do you know? ” 
“ Do I know? It’s a bumblebee, simple! ” 
Natalie answered scornfully. “ Surely you’ve 
seen bumblebees before? ” 

“ Well, this is the first one I’ve ever met 
socially,” Nancy drawled. “ Quite friendly 


PUDGE DIGS 145 

he seems, too. Will he bite, or can I keep him 
for a pet? ” 

“ You try it! ” Natalie began grimly, and 
then broke off to laugh. “ You’re — what is 
it they say in English books? You’re spoof¬ 
ing me, Nancy.” 

“Guilty!” the younger girl admitted. 
“ You’re so sure we poor benighted city folks 
don’t know anything about nature, and I was 
trying to live up to your ideas. Here’s my last 
dish towel, Sis. Is that a neat hem or isn’t it? 
I invite your approval of the dainty stitches.” 

Her sister examined it critically. “ Well, 
dainty is not exactly the word I’d have chosen. 
However, I suppose it will do. It’s only a dish 
towel, after all.” 

“ I am overwhelmed by your extravagant 
praise! ” Nancy rose, dropped the kitten into 
her sister’s lap, and swept a deep curtsy. 
“ Spare my blushes, sister mine — no more flat¬ 
tery, I prithee! Well, you can’t say I didn’t 
hem my share, anyway. Guess I’ll help Pudge 
out a bit — maybe he'll appreciate me.” 

She stepped down from the porch and bent 
over the busy baby. He had abandoned his 
digging for the moment, and was earnestly 


146 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


squeezing a great wad of clay between his 
plump fingers. “Make baw!” he confided, 
looking up into Nancy’s face. 

“Fine ball!” she applauded. “Nancy 
make, too? ” 

She sat down on the ground beside him, and 
scooped a handful of clay from the bottom of 
the hole. It was of a clear yellow color, and 
amazingly pliable. Nancy, whose kinder¬ 
garten efforts in clay modeling had always 
brought praise from her teacher, became really 
interested. “ This is good clay you find in 
China,” she told Pudge. “ I believe we can 
do something a little more ambitious than a 
ball, honey. Watch Nancy make a little tea 
set.” 

With deft fingers she began rounding out 
cups and plates. Pudge dropped his ball and 
hung over her, his rosy face aglow with interest. 
The older girls chatted on, and the shadows of 
late afternoon slanted across the pleasant pic¬ 
ture. 

Presently Natalie glanced at her wrist-watch 
and folded her sewing. “ I must go; Mother 
will be needing me. I’ve only one more to do, 
Bernice; put it away for me, and I’ll finish it 


PUDGE DIGS 


147 

next time. Come on, Pudgie, you can carry 
kitty if you’re very careful. Heavens, what 
have you done to yourself? ” 

The baby gleefully waved his arms, plastered 
to the elbows with yellow clay. “ Help Nanny, 
make booful disses,” he crowed. “ Booful 
disses, all for Pudge.” 

Natalie followed his pointing finger. She 
picked up a gracefully shaped toy pitcher and 
examined it with real admiration. “ Why, this 
is lovely, Nancy! I didn’t know you did this 
sort of thing.” 

44 1 told you she was artistic,” Bernice ob¬ 
served, coming to look. “ They are nice, 
Nancy — wish I could do something like that.” 

44 1 love this teapot, too,” Natalie went on. 
44 And the darling cups! What’s the matter 
with this big one? You forgot the handle, and 
it’s all squeegeed! ” 

44 It is not! ” Nancy answered indignantly. 
44 My cups are never squeegeed! Let me see. 
Oh!” she laughed. 44 That’s a joke on you, 
Natalie. This isn’t one of mine at all; it’s the 
Egyptian cup Bubastis found for us. Sis put 
it there when Pudge finished his milk.” 

Natalie laughed, too. 44 My apologies! And 


148 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

at that you rank a whole lot higher as a cup- 
maker than Pharaoh, or whoever did this one. 
They’re almost exactly the same color, aren’t 
they? ” she went on. “ That seems odd, when 
you come to think of it.” 

“ Yes, it does.” Nancy had taken the Egyp¬ 
tian cup from her and was scanning it with 
new interest. “ This has been baked; that 
would darken it a little. Not kiln-fired, either, 
just baked in the sun or a hot oven. If I did 
that with mine, they ought to come out exactly 
the same shade. I wonder — it is odd,” she 
finished perplexedly. “ I don’t see how the 
clay here in America could be the very same 
tint as Egyptian clay.” 

“ I know something else that’s odd,” Bernice 
interrupted. “ None of the other clay objects 
in the Egyptian Room is yellow. The Ali Baba 
jar is red, and several of the dishes. Some of 
the little statuettes are gray, and lots of them 
are so covered with bright paint you can hardly 
tell. But I’m quite sure there isn’t another 
thing made of yellow clay.” 

“ And that proves — what?” Natalie de¬ 
manded. 

“ I can’t imagine. Perhaps Great-Uncle 



PUDGE DIGS 


149 


Peter broke the original cup, and imitated it 
in clay from his own yard? That would be a 
silly thing to do, though. He’d know that he 
couldn’t hope to fool anybody; any experts, 
that is. They’d know right away that it was 
home-made. I can’t see — it’s just another 
mystery,” she finished hopelessly. 

“ Looks that way,” Natalie agreed. “ Well, 
I must run. Is he to have the tea set, Nancy? 
How lovely. Say thank you, Pudge. Here, 
dear, sister will carry the dishes, and you take 
pussy. No, not by the tail! ” 

“ Will you be over to-morrow? ” Nancy 
asked eagerly. 

“ I surely will, and we’ll put our heads to¬ 
gether over this latest puzzle. As Alice said, 
things are getting mysteriouser and mysteri- 
ouser in this house! ” 



CHAPTER XVI 


BESIDE THE BROOK 

Natalie, cutting across the vacant lot as soon 
as her morning duties were done the next day, 
was surprised to hear her name called from an 
upper window. Looking up, she saw Nancy’s 
hand waving between the iron bars by which 
the window was protected. 

“ We’re in the Egyptian Room,” she called. 
44 Walk right in; the back door’s open. Come 
on up.” 

A little breathless from climbing the stairs, 
Natalie found the two sisters waiting for her. 
“ You really ought not to leave your doors 
open like that, you know, especially after the 
Ali adventure,” she admonished. 

Nancy laughed. 4 4 Your mother told me her¬ 
self that nobody in Rosemont ever thought of 
locking his doors in the daytime,” she replied. 
44 We’re just trying to fall in with the ways of 
the natives. We run in and out the back way 

150 


BESIDE THE BROOK 151 


all day long, and it’s a frightful nuisance to 
bother with keys.” 

“ I think Ali was your town’s only burglar,” 
Bernice observed. “ And the gypsies left the 
hollow the very day after your father warned 
him. I don’t think we’ll be burglarized again.” 

“ Well, I don’t really think so, either,” 
Natalie agreed, tossing her red tam so that it 
fell upon the stone cat’s head. “ Look at your 
kitty, Nancy, doesn’t he look cunning in that? 
I’m pretty sure we’ve seen the last of Ali,” 
she pursued. “ Father said he was just a 
coward. Willing to steal if he could get away 
with it, but without nerve enough to try it again 
after he’d been caught. He and his gypsy 
friends were going through Creston the other 
day, Father heard. They always go south when 
autumn comes, like the wild geese, and this 
time the scare Ali got has hurried them up. 
They won’t show their faces around here again 
this year.” 

“ Well, I’m glad of that,” Nancy exclaimed. 
“ I can still see that horrid old woman! I feel 
rather sorry for her, though, and the other 
gypsies, too. Ali made them step around and 
wait on him as if he were royalty. They’ll wish 


152 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


they’d never let him join the band before 
they’re through.” 

“ I guess so,” Natalie agreed. “ What are 
you two doing up here, anyway? I thought 
you might like to go after water-cress. There’s 
a splendid bed down along the creek, where 
your gypsy friends were camped. Can’t you 
come? ” 

“ Love to,” Bernice answered. “We came 
up just to make sure that I was right when I 
said none of Great-Uncle Peter’s pottery was 
yellow, except the cup. I was right, too. You 
can see for yourself.” 

“ I believe you,” Natalie answered. “ But 
for the life of me I can’t see that it makes sense. 
I’ll take it back, now, pussy.” She gave the 
stone cat a careless pat as she transferred the 
red tarn from his head to her own. “ Do come 
along! You girls have hardly been outside the 
house since you came, and it’s too nice a day 
to waste indoors. Bring a basket, Nancy.” 

The June day was perfect; hot, as had been 
most of the days since the sisters arrived 
in Rosemont, but with a pleasant breeze. The 
little brook, fed from a spring higher up, mur¬ 
mured sleepily over bright-hued pebbles, and 


BESIDE THE BROOK 153 


the willows which fringed it made cool green 
shade. The air was sweet with flowering elder 
bushes, and from the deeper woods beyond the 
brook came a chorus of bird song. 

“ There’s only one sensible way to gather 
water-cress, you know,” Natalie observed, 
sinking down on the grassy bank. “ And that’s 
to take your shoes and stockings off and 
wade in.” 

“ Oh, I’ll love that! ” Nancy exclaimed, flop¬ 
ping down beside her and tugging at a sandal 
buckle. “ Are there water snakes, do you sup¬ 
pose? I’m fearfully afraid of water snakes.” 

“ I’ve never seen any,” Natalie answered 
cheerfully. “ And I’ve been gathering water¬ 
cress here since I was the size of Pudge. The 
water’s icy, though; you must be prepared for 
that.” 

Nancy squirmed along the bank until she 
could reach the water with her toe. “ Ooh — I 
should say so! Well — first in!” She stood 
up, with the clear water swirling about her 
ankles. “ And now where is this much-talked- 
of water-cress? ” 

Natalie joined her, and gave her shoulder 
an affectionate little pinch. “ You’re standing 


154 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

in the middle of it, darling! That green stuff 
growing out of the water all around you.” 

Nancy stooped and pulled a green spray. 
“ Well, well, who’d’a’thought it! And me al¬ 
ways supposing it grew on platters, twined 
about a planked steak. Ain’t nature wonder¬ 
ful!” 

“ Nancy, you idiot! ” Bernice was wading 
in, with little shrieks at the coldness of the 
water. “ Natalie will think you know even 
less of English grammar than you do of — of 
— is horticulture the word I want? ” 

“ It’s a good word, anyway; I’d take it,” her 
sister answered placidly. “ If you can’t use 
it now, it’s sure to come in handy some other 
time. Taste this stuff, Sis. It’s great.” 

When their baskets were full, the three girls 
returned to the bank, extending their chilled 
feet to dry in the sun. Bernice and Natalie 
found tree-trunks to rest their backs against, 
but Nancy lay full length, her head pillowed on 
her sister’s lap. The sky was very blue above 
her; the little cottony clouds very white. 
Natalie’s mother had said that the black-and- 
white kitten would surely be old enough to 
leave home in another week. This is really a 


BESIDE THE BROOK 155 

nice world, Nancy thought drowsily. When 
a girl has a lovely home, and a darling old 
Daddy, and a sister who only tries to be bossy, 
without really minding when she doesn’t suc¬ 
ceed — and who’s rather a darling, too, though 
it would never do to tell her so — and a de¬ 
lightful understanding friend like Natalie — 
and a black-and-white kitten — yes, it’s a 
pretty nice old world. It would be perfect, if 
only — 

“ Natalie,” she broke the restful silence to 
say abruptly. “ You promised we’d put our 
heads together over the latest mystery; the 
Egyptian cup that doesn’t seem to be Egyp¬ 
tian after all. What do you think it’s all about ? 
If Uncle Peter made the cup himself — and 
I’m almost sure he did, now — he must have 
had some reason for it. What could it have 
been? ” 

“ I’m like Ali, I’m afraid,” replied Natalie. 
“ 4 1 not knowing.’ As Bernice said, it seems 
such a silly thing to do. And from all I know 
about Mr. Hallam, he wasn’t in the habit of 
doing silly things.” 

“ Oh, but he was! ” Nancy retorted. “ Look 
how he quarreled with Lydia — that was silly! 


156 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

And I suppose some people, Mr. Charlton, for 
instance, would think he was silly to buy the 
golden girdle at all. Mr. Charlton would 
have thought it much more sensible to put the 
ten thousand dollars into the bank and let it 
draw interest.” 

“ If Uncle Peter had only done that! ” Ber¬ 
nice sighed. “ Then it would have come to 
Daddy, and ten thousand dollars would just 
about be the salvation of our family right now. 
I wish Ali had never told him about the golden 
girdle! ” 

“Bernice Enfield!” Nancy’s tone ex¬ 
pressed pure amazement. “ And then we’d 
never have had all this mystery, and romance, 
and adventure! Why, it’s been just like living 
in the most exciting book you ever read. I 
don’t see how you can even bear to think of 
missing it all, much less wish to! ” 

“ Oh, well, maybe I didn’t quite mean that,” 
Bernice admitted. “It has been thrilling; 
nothing like it ever happened to us before, or 
is ever likely to. But if we’re going to have to 
stop off in the middle, and never know the 
answer — well, I just don’t see the good of it. 
You can call me humdrum and practical if you 


BESIDE THE BROOK 157 


want to, but I’d rather have ten thousand dol¬ 
lars in real money than the promise of a golden 
girdle which maybe never existed, and which 
certainly can’t be found.” 

“ And that’s my sister! ” Nancy appealed to 
the other girl, who was listening with amuse¬ 
ment. “ After all the pains I’ve taken in bring¬ 
ing her up, too! Oh, well, who cares? There 
is a golden girdle, and it’s somewhere in Hal- 
lam House. Great-Uncle Peter gave it to me, 
and I’m going to find it or my name’s not 
Nancy! ” 

“ Of course you are, darling,” Natalie 
agreed quickly. “ Some day, somehow, we’re 
going to come across your uncle’s 4 clue ’, and 
it will lead us straight to the treasure. If he’d 
only given some hint, in his letter to Mr. Charl¬ 
ton ! He did say he’d written down the direc¬ 
tions, and concealed them where they could not 
be easily found. Why couldn’t he have said 
a little more? ” 

“ Well, he didn’t trust Ali,” Bernice ob¬ 
served. “ He probably felt that the servant 
wasn’t above opening the letter, so he didn’t 
dare say too much. And of course he expected 
to see the lawyer next day, and tell him every- 


158 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


thing. Your father thought we might find a 
paper hidden away somewhere in his room, 
Natalie, but we didn’t, of course.” 

“ I don’t think he wrote the directions at 
the same time as the letter,” Natalie answered. 
“ Ali told us he hid the jewel about five years 
earlier, you remember. I think he prepared 
the directions then, as a precaution in case 
anything happened to him. He was a very old 
man, you know, and his health was failing a 
long time before this last illness.” 

“Poor Uncle Peter!” Bernice said wist¬ 
fully. “ I can’t help feeling sorry for him, end¬ 
ing his days all alone in that great house he’d 
built to be so happy in. I do hope Ali wasn’t 
unkind to him.” 

“ Oh, he wasn’t,” Natalie assured her. “ Dr. 
Fox told Mother that Ali made a splendid 
nurse, and that he did everything possible to 
make his master comfortable. He must have 
been a queer character — Ali, I mean. We 
know that he was dishonest, and selfish, and 
cowardly, yet he tended Mr. Hallam faithfully, 
even while he planned to rob him.” 

“ Well, I think he was an honest-to-goodness 
villain, and you needn’t go digging up things 


BESIDE THE BROOK 159 

about him for me to admire,” Nancy said de¬ 
cisively. “ Villains aren’t supposed to have any 
good points, anyway; every one knows that.” 

“ All right, we’ll leave you your villain, 
Nancy girl,” Natalie answered good-naturedly. 
“ What were we discussing when we got off on 
Ali? Oh, yes. Where can Mr. Hallam have 
put his clue to the hiding-place of the golden 
girdle? ” 

“ That wasn’t what we began discussing,” 
Bernice objected. “ This conference started 
out to consider the why of the yellow cup.” 

“Girls, listen!” Nancy suddenly sat up¬ 
right, her eyes blazing with a new idea. “ We’ve 
agreed — well, almost agreed that Great- 
Uncle Peter made the yellow cup himself, from 
clay he found in his own yard. Now, suppose 
he did make it, and put it in the case among the 
real relics. We’ve said all along that there 
wouldn’t be any sense in doing a thing like 
that unless he had a reason. I’ve just thought 
of a reason he might have had.” She paused 
dramatically, and the older girls chorused, 
“ Yes, go on! ” 

“ Suppose the reason is this,” Nancy con¬ 
tinued slowly, enjoying every minute of the 



160 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


sensation she was causing. “ Suppose he made 
the cup and put it there because — because the 
cup is the clue! ” 

The interest in the faces of the other girls 
faded to disappointment. “ But it couldn’t 
be, honey,” Bernice pointed out gently. “ The 
letter to Mr. Charlton plainly said ‘ written 
directions 

“ I haven’t forgotten that,” Nancy answered 
calmly. “ But it didn’t say ‘ written on paper ’, 
And — it didn’t say r written in English 7 ” 
“ Nancy! ” There was awed respect in 
Natalie’s voice. “ You mean — the carving on 
the cup? You think it might be a message? 
Why, I never thought of such a thing. You 
are clever, little one! ” 

“ Written in Egyptian, or Greek, or what¬ 
ever it is? ” Bernice supplied eagerly. “ Why, 
Nancy darling, it could be! But fancy your 
figuring that out! You’re right, Natalie, she 
is the cleverest, brightest — oh, give us a kiss, 
kiddie. I am proud of my wise little sister! ” 
“ Of course, I may be wrong,” Nancy ad¬ 
mitted, when the chorus of admiration died 
down. “ But the more I think of it, the more 
likely it seems. The cup was put there for 


BESIDE THE BROOK 161 


some purpose, and the clue is somewhere . Why 
shouldn’t one mystery be the answer to the 
other? ” 

“ Let’s go back to the house,” Bernice was 
pulling on her stockings in feverish haste. “ I 
can’t wait to look at the cup again.” 

“ And I was right about Bubastis in the first 
place,” Nancy crowed. “ He was trying to 
tell us, the best he knew how. Oh, hurry, 
Natalie, do you have to lace all the holes ? The 
dear old kitty — to think that I ever doubted 
him!” 


CHAPTER XVII 

WHAT CAN IT MEAN? 

The little yellow cup sat quite at home among 
the other dishes in the kitchen cupboard, where 
Nancy had placed it after drying the break¬ 
fast dishes this morning. With hands that 
trembled from excitement she brought it down, 
and carried it out to the other two who had 
dropped upon the old wooden bench on the 
back porch. 

The three girls passed it from hand to hand, 
trying to read a meaning into the deep scratches 
which ran all around the upper edge. Then 
they looked at each other blankly. 

“ I’m still in the dark,” Natalie ventured. 
“ Whether it was written by Pharaoh or your 
Great-Uncle Peter, it still doesn’t mean a 
thing to me.” 

Nancy laughed ruefully. “ Do you know, 
I somehow expected the message to leap right 
out at us, now that we feel certain it is a mes¬ 
sage. Just another disappointment.” 

162 


WHAT CAN IT MEAN? 163 

“ But of course we’ll have to get it trans¬ 
lated,” Bernice said sensibly. “ Don’t look so 
worried, dearest, we’ll find a way. Do you 
know of any Egyptian scholars here in town, 
Natalie? ” 

Natalie shook her head. “ I’m sure there’s 
no one,” she replied. “ That’s why Mr. Hallam 
was considered so queer; that he’d spend all 
his time and money on a study that nobody 
else ever heard of.” 

Nancy looked up. “ You said something 
before about looking it up in Great-Uncle 
Peter’s library. Don’t you suppose we could 
do that? He must have hundreds of books in 
there, and most of them seem to be about 
Egypt.” 

Natalie sprang to her feet. “ Of course! 
I’d forgotten all about the library. Let’s go 
and look right now.” 

In the search for the Girdle of Isis, the two 
fathers had removed all the books from the 
shelves. They had even shaken the pages, 
hoping that Great-Uncle Peter’s written direc¬ 
tions might flutter out. Nothing had come to 
light, however, and the only benefit of the 


164 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


library search had been that Bernice had given 
the books a sadly needed dusting before they 
were put back on the shelves. 

The three stood now a little helplessly before 
the rows of solid volumes, Nancy cuddling the 
yellow cup in both hands. It was difficult to 
know which of the books to choose, and the 
girls scanned the titles with frowning brows. 
Finally Bernice’s eyes alighted on one which 
seemed promising. “ The Glory of the 
Pharaohs,” she read, and carried it eagerly to 
the big walnut table in the center of the room. 

The book was plentifully illustrated with 
views of the pyramids, the sphinx, and frown¬ 
ing kings in queer headdresses. There were 
photographs of tombs, too, and of mummy 
cases, these last covered with what was un¬ 
doubtedly writing, but so small in the picture 
that they could make nothing of it. 

Natalie’s selection was better. It showed 
several “ cartouches,” or oblong figures con¬ 
taining the names of kings. None of these in 
the least resembled the letters on the cup. 
Hopefully they turned to another book; 
Nancy’s choice, this time. 

There were several copies of inscriptions in 


WHAT CAN IT MEAN? 165 

this book, taken from tomb walls, and enlarged 
so that they were quite clear. Nancy puzzled 
over them in growing bewilderment. “ They 
aren’t writing at all; they’re pictures,” she 
complained. “ You can make out the bird 
quite plainly — see, he comes in over and over. 
And there’s a fish, and something that looks 
like a can-opener. Did the Egyptians have 
can-openers. Sis? ” 

“ I shouldn’t think so,” Bernice answered 
vaguely. She had been bending to look where 
Nancy pointed, and now straightened herself 
with a sigh. “ I was sure the inscription on 
the cup couldn’t be hieroglyphics, honey; I told 
you that when we found it. We’ll have to look 
farther.” 

“Oh, here’s the Rosetta stone!” Natalie 
had been ruffling the pages. “ This is the same 
picture we had in our history. Look at it, Ber¬ 
nice, it’s your specialty. Which inscription is 
which? It’s so faint I can’t tell.” 

Bernice frowned at the page. “ I can’t 
tell, either, from this. It’s all just a blur. I 
wish we could find some plain Greek writing 
to compare with the letters on the cup; they 
look more likely to be that than anything 


166 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

else, to me. Let’s try something else.” 

They pulled out book after book, without 
any result, until their shoulders ached from 
handling the heavy volumes. It was Nancy 
who found at last, tucked away in the lowest 
shelf, a thin little black book which had gone 
unnoticed. The title had worn off the cover, 
and it showed signs of much use. She opened 
it to the title page, and read aloud, “ A Lay¬ 
man’s Guide to the Interpretation of His¬ 
torical Records.” 

“ Does that sound like anything? ” she 
asked doubtfully. “ I don’t know exactly 
what a layman is, but I shouldn’t be surprised 
if we were three of him. Anyway, we do need 
a guide, so let’s have a look.” 

Three heads bent over the book, as Nancy 
spread it open on the table. Unlike the others 
they had examined, which were scientific works 
full of long words, this book was written in 
simple language. It was printed in large, clear 
type, and had many pictures. 

The first chapter told how writing began, 
with the cavemen scratching rude pictures on 
the walls of their caves. “ This looks interest¬ 
ing; I’m going to read it some day,” Nancy 


WHAT CAN IT MEAN? 167 

announced. “ But not now. I’m too anxious 
to find what we’re looking for.” 

She skipped to another chapter, this one 
dealing with Egypt. Here was the Rosetta 
stone again, with its history briefly told. 

Nancy hastily skimmed the printed page, 
then looked up with a smile. “ I wanted to see 
if you were bluffing when you told us all about 
it the other day, Sis,” she admitted. “ I’ll have 
to send you to the head of the class, though; 
you told it exactly as it is here, only you made 
it lots more interesting. Here’s a lot about the 
common writing, the demotic. I suppose to 
people like us it would have been the really im¬ 
portant one, wouldn’t it? Let’s see. ‘ Devel¬ 
oped from the hieroglyphics, as a sort of run¬ 
ning hand ’ — ‘ used in business reports and 
keeping accounts ’ — Well, that’s not very 
helpful. What we want is to see some. Oh!” 
she turned the page. “ Here’s the will of an 
Egyptian gentleman who died about thirty cen¬ 
turies ago. It’s written in demotic, and there’s 
a whole page of it. And it’s not — no, it’s not 
a bit like the cup-writing. Do you think so, 
Natalie? ” 

Natalie examined the page carefully, and 


168 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


shook her head. “ Well, at least we know the 
writing on the cup is neither form of Egyptian 
script; that’s something. What comes next? ” 

Nancy turned a few pages. “ Cuneiform or 
nail-writing of the Sumerians,” she read. 
“ This looks a little like it,” she began hope¬ 
fully. 

“ It does, doesn’t it? ” Bernice peered 
anxiously over her shoulder. “ What does it 
say? ‘Engraved on tablets of clay’ — well, 
that is promising. Find some more examples, 
quick! ” 

Long and anxiously they studied the pic¬ 
tures. There was a slight resemblance to the 
inscription on the cup, but so very slight that 
they were forced at last to conclude that they 
were on the wrong track. A little dispiritedly, 
Nancy turned the pages to the chapter on 
Greece. 

This was easier, for the Greek alphabet was 
given. Though some of the cup’s characters 
were similar, none was near enough to be taken 
for a Greek letter, either ancient or modern. 

Hurriedly they ran through the book. 
Hebrew, Sanskrit, Arabic, it was the same tale. 
When, with a sigh, Nancy closed the volume, 


WHAT CAN IT MEAN? 169 

they were sure of only one thing. The inscrip¬ 
tion on the yellow cup was not in any language 
they could identify. 

“ Well, so that’s that,” Nancy said, in such 
a woebegone little voice that her sister passed 
a comforting arm around her. 

“ Don’t you mind, darling,” she said quickly. 
“ We’ve made splendid progress to-day, even 
if we haven’t solved the riddle yet. Only this 
morning we were wondering why Great-Uncle 
Peter made the cup, and where he had hidden 
his clue. Thanks to your quick wits, we’ve 
found the answers to those questions, and we’ll 
find the answer to this one, too. Don’t you 
worry! ” 

“ I won’t, then,” Nancy gave her arm an 
affectionate little squeeze, and smiled very 
brightly to show she had never thought of cry¬ 
ing. “ We’ll come to the end of these mysteries 
yet, I know it! ” 

“I’m going to take this book along,” she 
added, as the three of them passed through the 
library door. “ It looks like fascinating read¬ 
ing. And maybe there’s something in it that 
will give us a hint yet. You never can tell! ” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


SUNDAY 

The next day was Sunday, their second at 
Hallam House. The first one had passed al¬ 
most unnoticed in the flurry of getting settled. 
This was to be a pleasant leisurely day, with 
Sunday School in the morning, for Natalie 
was eager to introduce the girls to her other 
Rosemont friends. Then they were all to go 
to dinner at the Clarke home. Mr. Enfield 
and the sheriff had grown quite friendly since 
the night Natalie so unexpectedly brought 
them together. And motherly Mrs. Clarke had 
been very sweet to her daughter’s new chums. 

“ You have to come to the small towns to 
know what ‘ neighbor ’ really means,” Bernice 
remarked at the breakfast table. “ We haven’t 
been here two weeks yet, and already we know 
the Clarkes better than we did the people who 
lived across the hall from us for years, in Chi¬ 
cago. And I do think they’re the nicest family 
— the Clarkes, I mean. Don’t you, Dad? ” 

170 


SUNDAY 


171 


“ Indeed, I do,” Mr. Enfield answered. 
“ No, no more toast, thank you, dear. I’m not 
very hungry this morning.” 

He picked up the Sunday paper, and Ber¬ 
nice studied him across the table with anxious 
eyes. She had said nothing to Nancy, but she 
was beginning to be worried about Daddy. He 
was unusually silent these days, and when she 
spoke to him his thoughts seemed a thousand 
miles away. Without asking, she knew that 
the book was not going well. The waste-paper 
basket she emptied every morning was heaped 
high with torn and discarded pages. Only to¬ 
day she had peeped at his typewriter, and 
noticed a clean new page headed, “ Chapter 
One,” in the machine. That meant that he had 
thrown away his earlier efforts and was start¬ 
ing all over. Nearly two weeks of their pre¬ 
cious summer had already gone, and there was 
very little done on the Book! 

Once, when Daddy talked to her about the 
book, before they left Chicago, he had told her 
gayly that he meant to work on a strict schedule. 
Twelve weeks, twenty-four chapters. That 
meant two chapters a week. “ Rain or shine, 
if I have to sit up all night to do it! ” he had 


172 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

vowed. That was easier said than done, she 
realized now. Great books didn’t grow that 
way, as poor Daddy was finding out. If only 
he didn’t have that feeling of being hurried, 
of racing against time! Probably that was the 
whole trouble, the reason his first chapter 
wouldn’t come right. 

Bernice’s forehead wrinkled in deep anxiety. 
She knew exactly what they had to live on. 
And economize as she would, and plan and con¬ 
trive, it would just barely see them to the end 
of the summer. To September first, say. And 
this was — yes, it really was June eighteenth. 
If the book wasn’t finished by September first 
— and at this rate it couldn’t be! — then when 
that date came Daddy would have to go back 
to the newspaper; give up his dreams of author¬ 
ship and take up the burden of breadwinning 
for the three of them again. Oh, she couldn’t 
bear that; she just couldn’t! Bernice didn’t 
want wealth; she and Nancy were perfectly 
satisfied and happy with simple clothes and 
plain food and everyday living. But if only 
they could have a little money, enough to keep 
the family going and let Daddy do the work 
he wanted to do; enough to make them safe 



SUNDAY 173 

until the girls were old. enough to do their 
share! If only — 

“ It’s quite a problem,” Nancy’s clear voice 
broke in on her musings. “ Do I wear the 
ruffled taffeta and awe the simple villagers 
with my city elegance, or would it be kinder 
to appear in last year’s dotted Swiss and put 
them at their ease? ” 

“ Goose!” Bernice dismissed her worries 
for the time being. “ I suppose you think the 
Rosemont girls go to church in sunbonnets and 
gingham aprons? That shows you haven’t 
noticed the store-windows in this town. The 
shops are small, but they’re showing the same 
styles you’d see on State Street, darling. 
You’ll wear your very best, and so shall I. We 
want to be a credit to Natalie.” 

“ You know, I think you’re getting to be 
a regular Rosemonter,” Nancy remarked. 
“ You’re developing the 4 booster spirit ’ the 
Rosemont Times talks so much about. Poor 
old Chicago would be in a bad way if it didn’t 
have me to stick up for it. Heigh-ho, must 
we do the dishes? No, don’t speak, I know 
the answer. Let’s hurry, though. Natalie 
promised to be here by ten.” 



174 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


The walk of several blocks to the old gray 
stone church was a very pleasant one; the girls 
of Natalie’s class received them with warm 
friendliness. Nancy’s secret conviction that 
small-town people — except Natalie, of course 
— were all old-fashioned and behind the times, 
received a severe shock. In their tasteful, 
pretty dresses, these girls could not be distin¬ 
guished from any city group; they were cer¬ 
tainly as well-bred and well-informed as any 
girls she knew at home. 

“ I’m beginning to lose my faith in the 
movies!” she whispered to Bernice, when 
Natalie left them for a minute to speak to her 
Camp Fire guardian. She was very glad now 
that she had worn the peach-colored taffeta, 
especially when Natalie presented them to the 
guardian, a very charming University girl. It 
was arranged then and there that the two En¬ 
field girls were to join the Camp Fire group, 
and they chattered excitedly all the way to 
Natalie’s home, of “ honors ” and “ ranks ” and 
council fires and hikes. 

Natalie was especially enthusiastic about the 
winter sports of the group. “ Just wait till we 
get the first snowfall — that’s when our fun 


SUNDAY 


175 


really begins. You’ll love it! ” she predicted. 

A shadow fell across Bernice’s face. “ I’m 
afraid we’ll not be here for that, Natalie. We’ll 
probably be going back to Chicago again when 
fall comes.” 

“ Why, Bernice! ” Natalie stared. “ Surely 
you can’t mean that? Why, I’ve been making 
all sorts of plans for this winter! We have a 
splendid High here, and you’d be in my class 
— you’d just love the teachers and the girls. 
You haven’t had much chance to get acquainted 
yet, but surely you can’t want to go back to 
that crowded, stuffy city. I thought you liked 
Rosemont.” 

Brave Bernice blinked back a tear. “ Of 
course I like it, and I’d love to stay — to live 
here for always. But it’s just —you know, I 
told you the other night, Natalie. About the 
money, and — and everything.” 

“ I’d forgotten! ” Contrite, Natalie hugged 
her friend to her. “ It just seemed so awful, 
the thought of losing you two, that I forgot 
everything. And I’m not going to believe it, 
that you won’t be able to stay here. Some way, 
it’s all going to come right. It’s got to.” 

Little Nancy had said nothing, but to her 


176 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


surprise she found that the very thought of 
leaving Rosemont was like a heavy weight 
rolled across her heart. All the ifs connected 
with Daddy’s book had meant little to her; and 
she had taken it for granted that Hallam House 
was their home, and her sense of being only a 
“ city visitor ” was already wearing thin. She 
knew quite definitely, now, that like Bernice 
she had no wish to return to the city. Life in 
this pleasant country village was sweeter and 
gayer than she had ever found it, and she was 
passionately sure that she could never again 
be happy anywhere else. 

But trouble never troubled Nancy for long. 
Good old Sis was always worrying over some¬ 
thing. She wanted to stay, Nancy wanted to 
stay — as Daddy always said, they’d manage, 
somehow. She slipped her hand into Bernice’s 
and light-heartedly echoed Natalie’s last 
words, “ It’ll all come right, Sis. It’s got to! ” 

They found Daddy and Mr. Clarke smoking 
lazily on the front veranda, while Mrs. Clarke 
bustled about the kitchen, followed at every 
step by little Pudge. Natalie’s mother assured 
them that she needed no help, and the girls 
drifted off to visit the kittens, taking the baby 
with them. 


SUNDAY 


177 

After the delicious dinner, Mr. Clarke got 
out his car and took them for a long drive. 
They left the tree-shaded streets of the little 
town for winding country roads, and the two 
girls returned at nightfall tired and happy, 
with their arms loaded with wild flowers. 

“ It’s been a lovely day, I think,” Nancy said 
as they undressed that night. “ Didn’t you 
just enjoy every minute of it, Sis? ” 

For a moment Bernice’s anxieties of the 
morning came back to her. “ I think it was 
good for Daddy, getting completely away from 
his book for a little while,” she murmured. 
“ Didn’t you think he looked more rested, to¬ 
night? ” 

“ Daddy? Why, I didn’t notice; he looks all 
right,” Nancy replied. “Didn’t you think it 
was a lovely day, Bernice,” she persisted. 
“ Wasn’t it just one of the nicest days you ever 
lived in your whole life? ” 

Bernice considered. “ Yes, it really was. 
The Clarkes are so nice, and the girls were 
lovely, and that darling Miss Rose — yes, it 
was a beautiful day.” But to herself she added, 
with a little sigh, “ Oh, if only —” 


CHAPTER XIX 


IN THE TREE-TOP 

“ You’re sure there’s nothing you want me 
for, Sis? ” 

It was mid-morning. The breakfast dishes 
were washed and put away, beds were made 
and dusting done. Over a week had passed 
since the happy Sunday the girls had spent 
with Natalie’s family. They had attended a 
Council Fire and been taken into the Camp 
Fire group, and several of the girls they met 
had called on them. There had been a picnic, 
too, and excited plans were afoot for an over¬ 
night camping trip in the near future. 

In all this rush of pleasant excitement Nancy 
had found little time to ponder the secret of 
the lost Girdle of Isis. But this morning, 
though Natalie was coming soon for another 
sewing session, Nancy had a sudden fancy to 
go off by herself and study the book she had 
brought from Great-Uncle Peter’s library. 
She had meant to do it all along, but so many 

178 


IN THE TREE-TOP 179 

other things had come up that she had never 
found the time. 

“No, I don’t need you at all, honey,” Ber¬ 
nice replied. “ You finished your share of the 
towels long ago. What’s on your mind? ” 

“ Well, I thought I’d climb that old apple- 
tree in the back yard and do a little reading,” 
N ancy answered. “I’ve always wanted to read 
in the branches of a tree — so many of my 
favorite heroines do it that it must be fun. I’m 
taking along a little nourishment so I won’t 
feel faint,” she added, stuffing a rosy apple into 
the pocket of her yellow chambray smock. 
“ Let’s see; a few of your justly-celebrated oat¬ 
meal cookies would help, too. And crackers. 
Have we any of those little ones with cheese in¬ 
side? I do love those. Oh, thanks, I’ll take 
the box, I think, just in case.” 

“ In case you don’t come down again for a 
week? ” her sister inquired. “ You’ve got 
enough food there to keep you going until the 
Fourth of July, I should say.” 

“Mere crumbs!” Nancy answered airily. 
“ What I really need is a banana. What, no 
bananas? A fine household this is. Well, I’ll 
try to keep soul and body together as best I 



180 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

can. ’By, Sis. Natalie’s staying for lunch¬ 
eon, of course? Tell her I’ll see her then.” 

“ Oh, you’re coming down for luncheon? ” 
her sister inquired innocently. 

“ Naturally. Be sure and have plenty, won’t 
you, for I’ll be starved! ” Nancy laughed. She 
gathered up her supplies, not forgetting the 
little black book, kissed her sister hastily, and 
fled. 

It was like being in a little green house, up 
there in the apple-tree. Nancy felt very 
pleased with her success in climbing; she had 
never attempted it before, and had been a little 
afraid it might prove harder than it looked. 
But with no trouble at all she had hoisted her¬ 
self to a perch on a thick limb that grew as 
though its aim in life were to resemble an arm¬ 
chair. It was true that small twigs had caught 
at her floating curls and given them many a 
painful yank in the ascent, but that was noth¬ 
ing. She had very wisely placed her food and 
the book in a tin pail with a handle, which she 
carried over her arm to leave both hands free 
for grasping the limbs. Next time she would 
bring a cushion, and the retreat would be 
perfect. 


IN THE TREE-TOP 181 


She settled herself on the limb, with her back 
against the trunk and her feet comfortably 
braced on a lower bough. The pail hung in 
easy reach at her elbow. This was fun! The 
leaves were so thick that the sun scarcely 
touched her, and when the breeze rustled them 
they sang a little whispering song. It was very 
quiet up there, except for the singing leaves 
and the birds twittering in the near-by trees. 
In a mood of serene content, Nancy spread the 
book open on her knees, and took the first huge 
bite from the spicy apple. 

She had been quick to notice that this book, 
alone of the ones they examined, seemed to 
have been much read. Nancy had a shrewd 
suspicion that poor Great-Uncle Peter, with 
all his curious passion for Egyptian things, had 
found the scholarly writings of the authorities 
a little difficult. Since many of the objects in 
his collection were covered with hieroglyphics, 
it was probable that he had found this book 
useful in his attempts to puzzle out their mean¬ 
ings. And if he had tried his own hand at com¬ 
posing an inscription, as the little yellow cup 
seemed to indicate, this would have been the 
likeliest book to help him out. 


182 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

She skimmed through the pages again, hop¬ 
ing to find an example of the queer letters on 
the cup; a drawing they had overlooked in 
their first hasty search. Nothing of the kind 
rewarded her, however, and with a grim de¬ 
termination not to give up, she turned to the 
first page and began to read the printed mat¬ 
ter with grave attention. 

She learned a great deal that was new to her, 
and much that was surprising. She had never 
realized before that men and women lived, and 
worked, and played, for centuries before the 
art of writing was invented. That all history 
up to our own time is merely a matter of records, 
and that all we can know of long-dead peoples 
is what they had the wit to set down in pictures 
or signs. 

The apple disappeared bite by bite, followed 
by the oatmeal cookies and most of the cheese 
biscuits. The sun, high overhead now, threw 
dainty leaf patterns on the pages. Nancy was 
so absorbed in the book itself that she almost 
forgot her purpose in reading it; to find a clue 
to Great-Uncle Peter’s ‘ clue.’ 

“ Ciphers and Cryptograms.” She had come 
to the last chapter of all now, or rather an ap- 


IN THE TREE-TOP 183 

pendix after the last chapter. The author was 
speaking of the hundreds of systems of “ secret 
writings ” employed by peoples of all historical 
periods. Sometimes a prisoner wished to com¬ 
municate with his friends; sometimes in war it 
was necessary to send a message which would 
tell nothing to the enemy, should it fall into 
their hands. There were no pictures in this 
part of the book, and only a few pages of close 
print. 

Nancy stirred restlessly, and realized for the 
first time that her apple-tree armchair left 
something to be desired in the way of softness. 
Her attention wandered from the book, and 
she parted the branches to peer toward the 
house. She dimly remembered having heard 
the voices of Bernice and Natalie as they sewed 
on the back porch, but the bench was empty 
now. They must have gone inside to prepare 
luncheon. “ Well, I’m almost through; I might 
as well finish this chapter and be done with it,” 
she decided. “ They’ll call me when lunch is 
ready.” 

She turned back to the book, but the spell 
was broken now. She remembered that she was 
reading, not for amusement, but for a purpose, 


184 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

and a purpose that it seemed was not going to 
be accomplished. Nancy’s spirits, which were 
always either very high or very low, began to 
sink. It seemed as though the secret of Hallam 
House might remain a secret forever; that her 
golden girdle must remain but a splendid 
dream. Oh, well, she’d go on with the book, 
and try not to be too disappointed when it told 
her nothing. 

Patiently she ploughed through the first two 
pages of the last chapter. After explaining 
briefly the purpose of secret codes, the author 
gave several historical instances in which they 
had played their part. 

“ It may be helpful,” he went on, “ to ana¬ 
lyze a typical cryptogram. We will take the 
famous Rosicrucian Square, so called from its 
employment by the mysterious Brotherhood of 
the Rose Cross during the Middle Ages. Vari¬ 
ations of this code are infinite, and have been 
used from ancient times. It played a signifi¬ 
cant part in the siege of Paris, during the 
Franco-Prussian War. 

Reduced to its simplest form, the principle 
is as follows: ” 

Nancy turned the page, and gave an un¬ 
controllable little start. For in the white mar- 


IN THE TREE-TOP 


185 


gin beside the printed column a light pencil line 
ran from the top of the page to the bottom. 
Did that mean — oh, could it mean that Uncle 
Peter had marked this passage with his own 
hand? 

“ Now don’t be silly! ” she admonished her¬ 
self. “ All you’ve done since this thing started 
has been to go on wild-goose chases. You’ve 
had one brilliant idea after another, and all of 
them were going to solve the mystery in just 
a minute. Yes, and what came of them? They 
simply led you into other mysteries that got 
worse and worse. Steady, now, Nancy; don’t 
lose your head this time.” 

In spite of her words, her fingers were trem¬ 
bling so with excitement that she could scarcely 
read the book. 

“ Lay off two horizontal line-segments of 
equal length and equi-distant,” the book con¬ 
tinued. “ Let them be intersected at right 
angles by two equal vertical lines, also 
equi-distant. Construct two similar figures. 
Place —” 

“Nancee!” called Bernice’s voice. “Are 
you coming? If you don’t want lunch say so. 
This is the last call! ” 


186 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

“ Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Nancy shouted. 
“ I’m on my way.” She closed the book with 
a frown of perplexity, dropped it into the now 
empty pail, and began the downward scramble. 


CHAPTER XX 


LIGHT AT LAST 

“ You two have had geometry, haven’t you? ” 
Nancy asked, when, washed and brushed, she 
took her place at the luncheon table. 

“ It’s my specialty,” Bernice answered 
promptly. “ Didn’t I show you those four S’s 
in a row I got last term, duckie? Why ask 
such a silly question of me? ” 

“ Well, you just called it c math Nancy 
apologized. “ I wasn’t sure whether it was 
geometry or algebra. Sis got awfully col¬ 
legiate as soon as they let her in high school — 
half the time you can’t tell what she’s talking 
about,” she explained to Natalie. “ I suppose 
you’ve had it, too? ” 

“ Yes, but I’m not any too good at it,” 
Natalie admitted. “ Literature is more my 
line. Why? Are you taking up higher mathe¬ 
matics in your spare moments? ” 

Bernice had been studying her sister’s face. 
“ Nancy has an idea,” she announced. “ I can 

187 


188 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


always tell when her eyes shine like that. 
Haven’t you, kitten? Come on, tell us all 
about it. What have you discovered now, and 
where in the world does geometry come in? ” 

“ Well, I have thought of something,” 
Nancy confessed. “ But it’s — oh, I don’t 
know, so many of my ideas have gone wrong 
lately that I’m afraid to trust this one. Let’s 
eat first, and then I’ll tell you all about it. I’m 
starving! ” 

“You must be!” her sister agreed, and 
turned to Natalie with a laughing account of 
Nancy’s lavish provisioning for the apple-tree 
expedition. 

When the meal was over Nancy brought 
pencil and paper. “Now remember, there 
may not be anything in this at all,” she warned. 
“I’m afraid to think there is, so I’m trying 
hard to tell myself it’s just a bit of foolishness. 
Rut I do want to try something, and I need 
some help. Will you promise not to laugh at 
me if it doesn’t work out? ” 

“ Of course we won’t laugh, honey,” her 
sister assured her. “ But tell us just one thing 
before we begin. Is it about the golden 
girdle? ” 


LIGHT AT LAST 


189 


“ I — think so,” Nancy answered slowly. 
“ But remember, you mustn’t count on it. It’s 
just — well, just a sort of notion I have that 
Great-Uncle Peter’s message may be a crypto¬ 
gram. And possibly — just possibly! — em¬ 
ploying the Rosicrucian Square.” 

“ Mercy! ” Natalie was plainly impressed. 
“ We have been improving our mind in the 
apple-tree, haven’t we? Do hurry and tell us; 
I’m all excitement! ” 

“ Don’t hurry her, Natalie,” Bernice warned. 
“ She’s excited enough herself, though she’s 
pretending to be so calm. What do you want 
us to do, dear? Is it a problem to work? ” 

“ Something like that,” Nancy replied. “ At 
least, it sounds to me like something out of a 
schoolbook. I don’t know what half the words 
mean, myself, but I thought you would.” 

“ It’s the book we found in the library, isn’t 
it? ” Bernice asked curiously as Nancy opened 
to the page where the pencil mark showed. 
“ The one about ancient writings? ” 

Nancy nodded, and held the page so they 
could see the mark. “ I thought — if Great- 
Uncle Peter marked it here — and if he was 
interested in secret writing — why, it might 


190 SECRET OF FIALLAM HOUSE 

mean something,” she explained breathlessly. 

“ Let me see.” Bernice took the book and 
began to read the marked passage. At the 
end of the first paragraph she broke off. “ I 
don’t think I quite get the idea. What’s all 
this supposed to be, anyway? ” 

As best she could, Nancy explained what a 
cryptogram is. “ These are directions for 
making one,” she continued. “ It’s a very 
famous code, called the Rosicrucian Square. 
I thought we’d take paper and pencil and follow 
it step by step; just do each thing as it says. 
Maybe it will be clearer that way.” 

“ Fine! ” Bernice agreed. “ Tell you what, 
you hold the book and read me a sentence at a 
time, and I’ll try to follow directions. Natalie 
will help me out if I go wrong. Wait, I’ll need 
a ruler, too. There’s one in the kitchen-table 
drawer over there, Natalie, will you hand it to 
me? Thanks. All right, chicken. Ready!” 

Lay off two horizontal line-segments of 
equal length—’” Nancy began, in a clear 
small voice which she could not stop from shak¬ 
ing a little. Natalie hung over Bernice’s 
shoulder, watching the flying pencil. 

“ Well, there are your three similar figures,” 



LIGHT AT LAST 191 

Bernice announced a few minutes later, and 
held up the paper for Nancy’s inspection. 

“ Those? ” Nancy stared at them in amaze¬ 
ment. “ Why, they’re nothing in the world but 
the things we make for tit-tat-toe! Why 
couldn’t he say what he meant, without drag¬ 
ging in all those line segments and equidistants 
and everything? He must be dumb! ” 

“ Maybe he never played tit-tat-toe,” Ber¬ 
nice suggested. “ Judging from his book, he 
must have been a model boy in school, who put 
all his time on his history lessons and wasted 
none of it in idle games. But never mind the 
professor’s habits. What does he want us to 
do next? ” 

Nancy turned back to the book. “ Let’s see, 
here it is. ‘ Place a dot above Fig. 1, two dots 
above Fig. 2, and three dots above Fig 3. Now 
insert the letters of the alphabet in the squares 
and uncompleted squares of the figures, begin¬ 
ning at the upper left hand corner and running 
vertically in order. This completes the Rosi- 
crucian Squares, and constitutes the key by 
which any message may be compiled or de¬ 
ciphered.” 

“ So those are Rosicrucian Squares! ” Nata- 


192 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

lie murmured, when Bernice had painstakingly 
followed the instructions. “ I must be very 
dense, for I still don’t see what the professor is 
getting at.” 

Bernice’s paper now looked like this: 

‘Fig» i 7 *^ 

• Z • • 


A 

D 

G 

3 

M 

P 

S 

V 

Y 

B 

E 

H 

K 

N 

a 

T 

w 

Z 

C 

F 

I 

L 

0 

R 

U 

X 



“Next step, honey,” she demanded im¬ 
patiently. 

“ 4 Let us suppose we wish to convey the 
message, ‘ I am young.’ ” Nancy read on. 

“(That’s something to send a secret letter 
about, ( now isn’t it ?) For the letter I we would 
take the inverted right angle from the first 
square, occupied by that letter. A single dot 
indicates that the angle was taken from Fig. 1. 
For A, we would take the A angle, placing one 
dot within it also. M would be represented by 
the uncompleted square assigned to that letter 
in the second figure of the key, with two dots to 














LIGHT AT LAST 193 

mark its position. And so on to the end of 
the message/ ” 

“ I see it now! ” Bernice’s pencil was flying 
and Nancy and Natalie bent over her shoulder ' 
to watch as the queer characters took shape. 

F jJO kIDliL 

t AM YOUNG 

“ There! ” she ended breathlessly. “ ‘ I am 
young ’ — why, it’s perfectly simple! ” 

Nancy scanned the paper a moment, and 
then raised solemn eyes to her sister. “ It is, 
isn’t it — like the writing on the cup?” she 
asked. 

“ Not a doubt of it!” Bernice responded 
warmly. “ Darling, you’ve done it this time! 
Get the cup.” 

With the three-square key before them, the 
girls set about eagerly turning the cup’s mes¬ 
sage into English. There was an unusually 
large space between two of the characters, and 
they decided that this must be the beginning, 
and the first character to the right would be 
the first letter of the sentence. It proved to be 
an 1, which had also been the first letter of the 



194 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

practice sentence, “ I am young.” The second 
one, “ N, of course! ” Nancy and Natalie cried 
together. The code was childishly simple, now 
that they knew the writer had merely taken 
the spaces where the letters stood on the key, 
and used their outlines instead of the letters 
themselves. 

Bernice carefully printed each letter as they 
made it out, and in a very little time it lay clear 
before them. 



IN THE CL-AWS OF THE CAT 


“ In the Claws of the Cat — that was where 
Great-Uncle Peter hid the Girdle of Isis! ” 
Nancy cried triumphantly. “ We’ve solved it 
at last, and found the hiding-place that was too 
much for Ali, and for our fathers and Mr. 
Charlton! Oh, girls, isn’t it just too wonder¬ 
ful? And didn’t I always tell you we’d find 
it some day? ” 

“ But we haven’t found it yet,” Bernice said 
mildly. “ In the claws of the cat. What cat? ” 
“Why, Bubastis, of course!” Nancy re¬ 
torted confidently. “ What other cat could it 
be? There’s never been another one on the 


^ LIGHT AT LAST 195 

premises that I know of, except the black-and- 
white kitten. Of course it’s Bubastis! Oh, do 
come quick, and let’s go see. I know we’ve got 
it this time! ” 

With flying steps the three girls raced up 
the stairs and down the corridor to the Egyp¬ 
tian Room. 


CHAPTER XXI 

THE GIRDLE OF ISIS 

The stone cat, Bubastis, sat very calmly on 
his pedestal, his unwinking stare fixed as al¬ 
ways on the corner cupboard which had held 
the little yellow cup. Nancy threw her arms 
about his neck. “ You were trying to tell us 
the secret all the time, O wisest of cats! Bless 
your stone heart, you are nice! ” 

“ ‘ In the Claws of the Cat Bernice re¬ 
peated thoughtf ully. Her heart was beating so 
loudly that she thought the other girls must 
surely hear it. To little Nancy, the quest of the 
golden girdle had been an exciting game, a 
page lived from a romantic story. But to prac¬ 
tical Bernice, never quite free from money- 
worry, the treasure stood for blessed relief, for 
a solving of all the problems that so vexed her 
adored Daddy. It couldn’t be true, she told 
herself now. It was simply too wonderful to 
believe that they were on the verge of finding 

196 


THE GIRDLE OF ISIS 197 

the treasure; it was too much like a delightful 
dream from which one must surely awaken. 

From the very first, Bernice had been afraid 
to let herself believe that the jewel really 
existed, and that they would yet find it. She 
had consoled Nancy’s disappointment when 
their previous efforts had ended in failure; she 
must be ready to do the same thing again when 
this one failed also. “ Such things don’t hap¬ 
pen! ” she reminded herself now. “ They can’t 
— it’s too like a fairy story! ” But deep down, 
under her brave attempts to prepare against 
disappointment, her anxious heart was repeat¬ 
ing prayerfully, “ Oh, but if only — if only —” 
“ Well, he’s certainly got claws, all right,” 
Nancy was kneeling in front of the stone figure. 
“ Look, girls, how cunningly they are carved. 
Four on each foot, curving out between his toes. 
They must be as big as a tiger’s — mercy, I 
think I’m glad he isn’t real, after all! Though 
I don’t suppose for one minute he’d hurt me, 
friendly as we’ve been.” 

Bernice and Natalie knelt beside her, and all 
three closely scanned the feet of the image. 

As they had noticed before, the stone paws 
rested on what was evidently meant to be a roll 





198 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

of papyrus, the paper of early Egypt. The 
cat’s paws were as large as Nancy’s hands, and 
were curved around the scroll so as almost to 
encircle it. They were carved with careful at¬ 
tention to detail, and the toes were spread apart 
to show the claws as a cat’s feet look when she 
is clutching something. 

The scroll itself was beautifully carved. 
Each end showed circles within each other, as 
though a long sheet of paper had been tightly 
rolled. In front, there was a space of about 
four inches between the encircling paws, and 
this space was carved in a ridge to resemble the 
lower end of the rolled paper. A stone seal, 
marked with worn lines to represent the scarab, 
or sacred beetle, appeared to hold the rolled 
page in place. The workmanship was excel¬ 
lent, and it was plain that the ancient sculptor 
had lavished endless pains on his task. 

“ Well, and what do we do now? ” Natalie 
asked briskly. “ FI ere are the claws. Does he 
mean that the treasure is inside of them? Do 
we have to get a hammer and smash them to 
find it? I’m not sure we could. That stone 
looks terribly hard to me.” 

“ Indeed you’re not going to smash Bubastis’ 


THE GIRDLE OF ISIS 199 


toes with any hammer! ” Nancy exclaimed in¬ 
dignantly. 

“ I don’t think Great-Uncle Peter’s 4 in 9 
meant literally inside the claws,” Bernice of¬ 
fered. “ It seems to me more likely that he 
used it in the sense of 4 within.’ 4 Within ’ the 
claws — that could mean 4 between the claws,’ 
just as well. Not that it gets us any farther,” 
she added honestly. 

44 Well, if you’re thinking up meanings for 
the word, how about this one? ” Nancy de¬ 
manded. 44 In the claws of the cat — that is, 
make them go in. Oh, I know in that case he 
might have said 4 Push in the claws,’ but he was 
trying to make it hard, wasn’t he? And all 
the stories I’ve ever read about secret hiding- 
places had something to press; a hidden spring 
that worked only when you pushed something 
in. Couldn’t that be it? ” 

44 Of course it could!” Natalie approved. 
44 1 was silly to think we’d have to break the 
stone. The figure was carved ages before your 
uncle ever saw it; he couldn’t have made the 
hiding-place himself. It must have been there 
all the time, and if there’s a way in, there’s a 
way out.” 



200 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


“ Daddy thought the cat must have been 
used to guard the door of the king’s strong¬ 
room,” Bernice remembered. “ And it’s very 
likely the king might think of fooling the 
thieves by hiding his most precious possession 
in the cat itself, where they’d never think of 
looking if they were trying to break into the 
room.” 

“ It will be quite all right for you two to sit 
here all day and discuss ancient history,” Nancy 
said politely. “ Me, I’m going to see if I can’t 
push in kitty’s claws and find the Golden Girdle 
of Isis!” 

“ We’re waiting for you, dear,” Bernice 
answered gently. “ You’ve made all the dis¬ 
coveries, done all the bright thinking that will 
solve the secret, if it’s to be solved. And — 
Great-Uncle Peter wanted you to have the 
girdle. We’ll watch, and help if you need us. 
But it’s your right to make the last discovery, 
and no one else’s.” 

“ I think so, too,” Natalie agreed gravely. 
Tears of affection sprang to Nancy’s eyes, and 
she threw both arms about her sister and her 
friend. “ I do love you both!” she said 
brokenly. “ And I’ve been so horrid some- 


THE GIRDLE OF ISIS 201 

times, and you’ve been so sweet — oh, I just 
can’t bear it if I’ve let you in for another dis¬ 
appointment this time!” 

She laid her forefinger on one of the stone 
claws, and then hastily snatched it back. “If 
— if it doesn’t work I’m not going to mind a 
bit,” she said defiantly. 

“Of course you’re not!” her sister re¬ 
assured her. “If we never find the golden 
girdle the sun will still rise and set, and the 
Enfield family will go on living. Try not to 
set your heart on it too much, dearest; every¬ 
thing will be all right.” 

“ Oh, do go on! ” Natalie urged, her hands 
clenched with eagerness. “ If it isn’t there, we’ll 
think up a lot of consoling things to say. But 
do let’s wait till we’re sure we need them! ” 

“Well, here goes!” Nancy drew a long 
breath, and her heart-shaped little face was 
very solemn. The two older girls sat back on 
the floor on each side of her, and waited. Al¬ 
most fearfully Nancy put out her hand, and 
then pressed her pink finger firmly on the first 
claw of the left foot. 

“ No good,” she whispered tensely. “ Try 
the next.” 




202 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

Slowly, pressing with all her strength, she 
tried each claw. The carven stone stubbornly 
resisted her fingers; nothing moved. 

“Why don’t you—” Natalie began, but 
Bernice hushed her. “ Let her do it her own 
way,” she whispered. 

Again Nancy went over the claws, one by 
one, with the same result. She sat back on her 
heels then, her head a little on one side, think¬ 
ing earnestly. Her lips moved without sound. 
“ In the claws of the cat — in the claws of the 
cat! Not claw, claws. And in — they must 
go in, it can’t mean anything else. In the claws 
of the cat — oh, I wonder? But of course, how 
stupid of me! It has to be that! ” 

She flashed an eager glance at her sister, who 
gave her back a beautiful smile of love, and en¬ 
couragement, and understanding. 

“Now! ” Nancy whispered. She bent for¬ 
ward, placing each finger carefully on one of 
the widespread claws. Eight claws, eight 
fingers, square on the tops of them. 

“ In the Claws —” she murmured, and with 
the words she pushed forcefully with both 
hands. 

Could it be — was it only imagination? For 


THE GIRDLE OF ISIS 203 

as she pushed, it surely seemed that the hard 
stone was sinking; slowly, slowly sinking be¬ 
neath her eager fingers. 

This was not imagination, at least. A curious 
whirring noise, rather like a clock about to 
strike, was coming from the papyrus scroll be¬ 
neath the paws. 

The claws wei'e sinking, there could be no 
doubt of it now, for Nancy’s knuckles were dis¬ 
appearing, each in a narrow little hole of its 
own. And the noise was growing louder, and 
was mingled with little squeakings and grat¬ 
ings. 

Bernice and Natalie were close beside her, 
breathing heavily, with flushed faces, but 
Nancy had forgotten them. For as she 
watched, fascinated, and all the time continu¬ 
ing to press with all her might, the carved ridge 
which represented the end of the papyrus scroll 
was moving — parting — widening to a tiny 
crack which was steadily growing larger under 
her astounded eyes. 

It seemed hours that the three girls crouched 
there, watching, and far too awed to speak. 
Although the ancient mechanism worked with 
agonizing slowness, it can scarcely have been 


204 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

more than two minutes at most when with a 
little gurgling sigh the whirring ceased, and 
the stone claws came to rest in their dark holes 
out of sight in the ends of the scroll. 

The crack between the paws was perhaps two 
inches wide, each side having slid down in its 
hidden groove. In the opening thus disclosed 
appeared a thick wad of ordinary absorbent 
cotton, dusty and discolored. 

Nancy withdrew her hands from the claw- 
holes and turned toward the watchers. “ Shall 
I? ” she asked half-fearfully. 

“ Of course! ” Bernice’s laugh, though re¬ 
assuring, was strangely breathless. 

Nancy plunged her hand into the cavity and 
drew out the bunch of cotton. With shaking 
fingers she began pulling the soft stuff apart. 
As she did so something hard slipped from the 
mass and tinkled on the tiled floor. It lay there, 
gleaming softly, until Nancy timidly picked it 
up and spread it between her two hands. 

Bright yellow gold, delicate as fairy lace, 
formed an intricate pattern of lotus flowers 
and reeds. The hearts of the flowers were 
jewels, flashing red and blue and green in the 
summer sunlight. Two golden clasps, each set 



“It is the Golden Girdle of Isis !”—Page 205 






THE GIRDLE OF ISIS 205 


with an enormous glowing purple amethyst, 
met to complete a perfect circlet for a slender 
waist. Surely they had loved their goddess 
well, those forgotten worshippers who had 
wrought such a gift for her. “ The loveliest 
jewel I had ever seen ” — the words of great- 
Uncle Peter rang in Nancy’s ears. 

“ It is the Golden Girdle of Isis! ” she said 
simply. 


CHAPTER XXII 
all’s well 

“ But it is incredible — I could never have 
believed it!” Mr. Charlton was quite star¬ 
tled out of his usual dry calmness, and the gaze 
he turned upon Nancy was so packed with re¬ 
spect and admiration that she felt herself blush¬ 
ing beneath it. “ To think that this little lady 
here should have succeeded where we older heads 
had to give up! You must be very proud of 
yourself, my dear.” 

“ But I didn’t do it alone,” Nancy protested 
shyly. “ Sister and Natalie made out the mes¬ 
sage; I wouldn’t have dreamed the professor 
was talking about tit-tat-toes, from what he 
said in the book. And it was Natalie’s idea to 
lay the trap for Ali. And Bernice — oh, I’d 
have given it up long ago if she hadn’t been with 
me every step, comforting and encouraging and 
helping. We all did it, Mr. Charlton.” 

“ Well, then I congratulate you all,” the old 
lawyer answered. “ Never had any children 

206 


ALL’S WELL 


207 


myself, Mr. Enfield,” he continued to Daddy, 
who sat beaming proudly on the worn leather 
couch, with a daughter on either hand. “ These 
girls of yours make an old bachelor see what he 
has missed. Yours, too, Tom,” he added, turn¬ 
ing his admiring gaze upon Natalie, who was 
perched on the arm of her father’s chair. 
“Three mighty fine young people! Well, 
well! ” 

Immediately after making their amazing 
discovery, the girls had broken all rules for 
once and had run for Daddy. “ He won’t mind 
this interruption! ” Nancy had said gleefully. 
They had hurried him to the Egyptian Room, 
all talking at once. 

When the excitement died down a little, 
Daddy, as jubilant as themselves, had sug¬ 
gested that they summon Mr. Charlton and 
Natalie’s father. Both men had assisted in 
the fruitless search for the girdle, and it seemed 
right that they should be the first to know of its 
discovery. 

They, too, must be taken to the Egyptian 
Room and the stone cat’s secret revealed. 
While Bernice was showing them the open 
crack, she accidentally leaned her weight upon 


208 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


the scarab seal. Instantly the whirring sound 
began again, and while they watched the hole 
slowly closed, and the stone claws rose to their 
old place. Bubastis stared serenely straight 
ahead, as he had always done, and there was 
nothing left to tell of the secret he guarded be¬ 
neath his enormous paws. 

The little party had gathered in the library 
now, and the whole story had been gone over 
and over until the three men knew every detail. 
The cup had been exhibited and the cryptogram 
explained. The golden girdle had been 
passed from hand to hand for awestruck admi¬ 
ration, and now lay splendidly glowing on 
Great-Uncle Peter’s desk. 

Mr. Enfield broke the little silence that had 
fallen by saying practically, “ We are some¬ 
what puzzled as to just what to do with the 
jewel, now that we have found it. Perhaps 
you can help us out, Mr. Charlton.” 

“ Perhaps I can.” The old lawyer smiled 
mysteriously. “ As a matter of fact, I have a 
little surprise, too, although nothing like the 
one the young ladies have just given us. 

“ On the day that you told me Ali’s story, I 
dispatched a cablegram to a good friend of 


ALL’S WELL 


209 


mine, a lawyer also, in the city of London. I 
asked him to get in touch with the estate of 
Sir Francis Huddleston, who passed away 
many years ago, and find out whether the re¬ 
ward offered by Sir Francis for the return of 
the girdle still stood.” 

“ Then you did believe in it! ” Nancy inter¬ 
rupted. “ Daddy and Mr. Clarke gave up and 
said that Great-Uncle Peter must have been 
wandering in his mind when he wrote the let¬ 
ter. But you still had faith, just — why, just 
like us! ” 

“ I am very flattered to be classed with youth 
in this case,” the lawyer said, with a dry smile 
toward the two other men. “Yes, my dear, I 
had faith. Mr. Hallam was not given to fan¬ 
cies, and it did not seem strange to me that he 
would devise a difficult hiding-place for his 
treasure.” 

“ Well, we’ll remember this next time,” 
Sheriff Clarke laughed. “ If you young 
women tell me the moon is made of green cheese 
and I can reach it by jumping, I’ll jump and 
never stop till I can cut me off a slice.” 

“ I also stand convinced,” Mr. Enfield said. 
“ But go on, Mr. Charlton.” 


210 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


“ I received a reply from my friend this morn¬ 
ing,” the lawyer answered slowly. “ It is quite 
lengthy; I will give you his information in a 
few words. 

“ He found that the entire estate of Sir Fran¬ 
cis Huddleston was left to the British Museum. 
They have in their possession now the statue 
of Isis upon which the girdle was originally 
found, and the Museum authorities are deeply 
interested in securing the girdle to complete 
the exhibit. Sir Francis described it at some 
length in his book, and it will not be difficult for 
them to identify it. They will send an expert 
here at once as soon as we can cable them we have 
found the jewel. If he pronounces it genuine 
—” Mr. Charlton cleared his throat. 

“ Oh, tell us! ” Bernice breathed. 

“ I might explain,” Mr. Charlton went on 
with tantalizing slowness, “ that Sir Francis 
Huddleston’s will contained a rather curious 
provision. He left to the Museum, in trust, 
the sum of three thousand pounds to be paid to 
the finders, should the girdle ever be found. 
The Museum was allowed the use of the interest 
on this money, but the three thousand pounds 
itself could never be used for any other purpose. 


ALL’S WELL 


211 


* 

Sir Francis undoubtedly knew that the girdle 
had been stolen, and felt confident that it would 
come to light sooner or later. He was naturally 
anxious that the British Museum should have 
the jewel, and so made this provision for it. 
The Directors of the Museum therefore in¬ 
formed my friend that they would be delighted 
to turn over this fund to us, should we produce 
the girdle. And they further state that, as is 
customary in retrieving stolen property from 
innocent parties, they will gladly repay to Mr. 
Hallam’s estate the purchase price of the jewel. 
That sum, as Ali told us, and as we can easily 
establish from your uncle’s records, amounted 
to ten thousand dollars.” 

“ Ten thousand dollars — three thousand 
pounds — why, that’s twenty-five thousand 
dollars! ” Bernice exclaimed. “ Do you mean 
they’d really give us all that money for it? ” 

The lawyer smiled. “ Twenty-five thousand 
dollars is only a fraction of the girdle’s real 
worth, my dear. If your uncle’s ownership had 
been less open to question — I mean, if he had 
bought it openly in the market-place from its 
lawful owner, I should certainly advise against 
letting it go for such a sum. But under the 


212 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 


circumstances, I think that the Museum’s offer 
is a fair one. They cannot use the reward fund 
for any other purpose, and the interest from it 
which they have enjoyed all these years amounts 
to far more than the extra ten thousand dollars. 
So you see they are actually acquiring this valu¬ 
able jewel at no cost to themselves, and they 
are very anxious to close the matter on those 
terms. Of course you are not bound to accept 
this offer. I might get you a better one — ” 
“ Oh, but twenty-five thousand is plenty! 33 
Bernice interrupted, so earnestly that they all 
laughed. “ I mean,” she went on in confu¬ 
sion, “We could live beautifully on that! 
You could write your books, Daddy, and take 
years on every chapter if you wanted to. We 
• could stay on here in Rosemont, and Nancy 
and I could go to college, when we are ready, 
without your having to worry and fret about 
where the money was to come from. Why, it’s 
just heaven-sent, isn’t it, Daddy? ” 

“ It looks like it,” he admitted. “ The Mu¬ 
seum’s offer seems to me a fair one, as Mr. 
Charlton explains it, and there is no denying 
that we should find the money useful. At the 
same time, I hardly feel that the matter is one 


ALL’S WELL 


213 


for me to decide. Suppose we put it up to the 
heiress here ? After all, it’s her property we’re 
disposing of. What do you say, Puss? ” 

All eyes turned to Nancy, where she sat very 
quiet, with her hand in Bernice’s and her head 
on Daddy’s shoulder. 

44 But of course we’ll take it,” she said, her 
blue eyes wide with surprise. “ I told you all 
the time we’d get some money for it, and put 
it in the bank, so there wouldn’t be any more 
worries. And nobody that wasn’t a perfect 
pig could possibly ask for more than twenty-five 
thousand dollars! We had more than a million 
dollars’ worth of fun finding it, anyway, and 
now to get all this real money on top of it — 
why, it’s just like all our dreams come true! ” 

44 And you don’t feel the least little pang 
about giving it up? ” Mr. Charlton asked curi¬ 
ously. 

44 Oh, no! ” Nancy’s eyes met his serenely. 
“ It’s lovely, of course. But I’ve found it, and 
looked at it, and tried it on — now let it go back 
to the poor goddess who really owns it. I ex¬ 
pect she’s missed it, all these years — I’m glad 
that she can have it back again.” 

44 That’s settled, then.” Mr. Charlton rose 



214 SECRET OF HALLAM HOUSE 

and reached for his hat. “ I’ll cable to London 
to-night. Better come along with me now, Mr. 
Enfield, and put the golden girdle in safe 
deposit at the bank. It’s far too valuable to 
leave lying about.” 

“ I’ll walk down with you,” Sheriff Clarke 
offered. “ We three weren’t smart enough to 
find it in the first place, but maybe we’ll do to 
guard it until it’s in safety.” 

When Bernice and Natalie came back from 
seeing them to the door, the library was empty. 

“Where in the world—” Natalie began, 
but Bernice smiled, “ I think I know. Come 
along! ” 

The door of the Egyptian Room was open, 
and little Nancy was crouching on the floor, 
her flushed cheek pressed to the face of the stone 
cat. 

“Dear, dear Bubastis!” she was crooning 
softly. “ Thank you and thank you a thou¬ 
sand times over again! You have been so good 
to us — Nancy will always love you, darling 
Bubastis! ” 


THE END 










1931 

















































































